Down the Light
by Dannemund
Summary: Thrust into a world she'd never thought to see, Del must survive. Starvation, tribals, and dinosaurs make that difficult for her to do so and, even more frustratingly, she's forced to work with Kasimir, an exile with a mysterious past on the Island. Ark-wide war forces Kasimir to retrace his steps, or else be dominated by an Unnamed tribe.
1. Arrival

Note: This is probably all very familiar to people who've played the game. I am sorry about that; I tend to make boring openings. This story is more of a clog buster than anything else.

* * *

She was falling.

The sky seemed an endless blur around her, stars moving so fast she couldn't bear it. She closed her eyes to the sight. Her stomach turned.

There was nothing, when she opened them. Nothing but a vast expanse of blackness and the cold of empty space.

Then she hit the ground.

* * *

It was warm when she stood up. Gritty sand under her, a gentle breeze brushing against her body. Everything was blurry, at first―the sun was so bright. She winced.

She stood. She felt wrong. Looked down at her arms, unsure of what had happened. Her left arm itched painfully. She saw the... thing, then.

Whatever it was, was embedded into her skin deeply and she was afraid to touch it. It itched so badly she had to scratch―and hissed in pain as her fingernails scraped across the slick surface. A buzzing sound erupted in her ears, as the diamond-shaped thing started to vibrate.

She dropped her hands to her side, looking up. Where was she?

Palm trees, their fronds moving in the wind; driftwood; stray shells; rocks. Ocean waves lapped at the shore of the tiny finger of land. She blinked and looked around, confused. An island? Where in the world―

An enormous armored turtle shambled up out of the water to her right, startling her. She backed up a few feet, slipping on a shell and landing half in the water behind her. It slowly plodded into nearby bushes, extending its neck and snapping branches with a sharp beak.

Her legs out in front of her were bare. Toes wiggled in the sunlight, sand between them. What little clothing she was wearing, was rough.

Okay, Del, calm down, she told herself. But―how did she know her name was Del? She wasn't sure of anything―before the stars and the falling―

In the sky to the northeast, a massive tower construct loomed. It bore the diamond shape of the thing in her arm, glowing faintly under the sun. She'd never seen anything like it. It looked―all wrong.

Chirping noises from further down the beach caught her attention. She directed her gaze to the creature―a bird―a dodo? But they were extinct. Weren't they? How did she know that?

She put herself to rights, staring at the dodo and listening to the chirping, ignoring the itching in her arm and feeling the buzzing in her head ebbing away.

Something else moved along the beach. Del focused on it. Her eyesight was sharp. It shouldn't be, she "knew".

The figure on the beach was a man. It came closer to her, moving fast. She felt the urge to run away. Why, she didn't know. She glanced to the right, the turtle picking its way through the bushes, and back to the man.

He pulled out a spear and stabbed the noisy dodo with a powerful motion. It fell sideways, making a horrible squawking noise. Del watched him pull the weapon from its neck, pick up the corpse with one hand and carry it away.

He had to have seen her. Had to wonder what she was doing in this place, right? But he kept walking away. Del rolled her feet across the sand in a rocking motion, bit her lip and glanced around again. The turtle was moving back into the water, ignoring her completely. She could see the dark shapes of fish, darting away before they came too close to shore. The breeze picked up and whipped hair into her face.

Glancing behind her, there was nothing but miles of ocean.

She was almost naked and the man was wearing full clothing.

Her stomach growled, painfully. The buzzing in her skull grew again.

And far away from her, something roared powerfully.

Del's feet moved less reluctantly toward the other side of the beach.

* * *

She crept up on the site of a tiny hut, looked like it was made out of straw. It was set into a stand of trees but on the edge of a bald rock face, overlooking a shallow bend of river.

The man had plucked the feathers from the dodo and was cleaning it, pulling out stringy innards and dropping them onto a piece of hide laid out beside him. He sat on a knee-high rock with his back facing her, his blond hair dirty and unkempt under an equally dirty wrap.

She lurked behind a tree, watching him carefully. The buzzing in her ears had gone, the itch of the thing in her arm was gone too. He's been here a while, she told herself. Long enough to know what's going on?

She stomached the nausea from seeing the guts of the bird, hearing the nasty noises they made as he slapped them onto the hide. Her hunger vanished.

The man set what remained of the dodo onto a stick that had been impaled into the ground over a small campfire, then scratched at his beard with bloody fingers.

It was hotter now than it'd been before. Del tried to tell where the sun was, but couldn't see through the trees. Her mouth was dry. That was probably fear more than it was thirst.

She was nervous and her hands trembled. Grabbed at the tree and took a deep breath.

The man turned his head to the side, staring out into the trees. His hand reached down for his spear, his eyes glancing in her direction.

The pang of fear in her chest hit her hard. She jerked back against the bark, trying to still her heart. Might fly out of her, she thought. That might be better―she shook her head. This was ridiculous.

Her eyes jammed shut. She needed help. She didn't have any food, clothing, or weapons―and it really seemed like she needed them―and this man was the only person around―and he had to know what was going on, and he looked like he could take care of himself―

Del opened her eyes and turned back to the hut, jumping out of her skin to see him standing right beside her, spear at his side and piercing blue eyes digging into hers. She hadn't even heard him move up on her. Her hands went to the tree, gripping the loose bark and pulling it off in a frantic movement.

Lost her balance and fell onto her ass again. She stared up at the man. He stared back. Like he was judging her, a hard look on his face. He had a scar running from the inside of his eye down into his beard, and numerous claw marks across his forearms.

After what felt like forever, he made a motion for her to follow him and limped back into his camp.

Del sighed in relief.


	2. Kasimir

"Kasimir," was the first word he spoke to her. She'd been sitting at the fire watching the juices drip from the carcass and into the flames, hissing on impact, for probably half an hour. He was silent until then, his eyes moving constantly over the trees.

She'd been afraid to talk to him. He gave off such an intimidating air. Didn't make any sound, even when he walked. Her own feet were already sore from the tiny shards of shell on the beach and the twigs and rocks in the ground cover. Everything could probably hear her, from miles away.

She looked up sharply at him. He was staring at her again, that same hard look as before. Del swallowed the thick feeling in her throat. "Del," she said, pointing at herself. "Are-is this―" Her voice was wobbling. Pulled herself together and took a steadying breath. "Where are we?" she asked.

Kasimir shrugged, looking back to the fire. Del screwed her face up. "How―how'd you get here?" she pressed.

He picked up a branch and poked at the fire. His left arm was the same as hers, a diamond-shaped purple stone lodged in the skin. "Same as you," he said.

It wasn't English. She could understand what he was saying, but the words weren't right. It jarred her. "How long've you been here?" she squeaked out, her throat tightening on the words.

"Don't know," he said, dropping the branch.

"What's that... thing in the sky?" she asked, gathering her courage.

Kasimir looked up at her, shrugging again. "Don't know."

"What do you know?" she wondered, starting to feel frustrated.

Kasimir was quiet for such a long moment, staring at her, that she didn't think he'd answer. She shifted her weight from one side to the other, uncrossing her legs and stretching them out onto the leaf litter.

"They come down in the light," he said, abruptly. His eyes moved down across her legs, then back to her face. "Same as you."

Del's eyes widened. "There's other people? How―but where are they?"

"Gone." Kasimir scratched at his beard, flaking off dried blood. "Dead."

Del sucked in a breath and held it. Her lungs were crying for air when she let it out. "How many?" she practically whispered. "They can't all be dead―"

Kasimir sighed through his nose, pressing his mouth together. "Some at first. Then more. All gone."

Her next breath came out a whimper before she realized it. She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, rocking slightly. All dead? More people, brought here―somehow―maybe all of them like her, wearing next to nothing, no weapons, and afraid―

She buried her head into her kneecaps and cried, quietly.

* * *

She must have dozed off. She woke to something rough falling onto her head, almost falling over at the touch. Kasimir dropped a pile of white cloth onto the ground beside her, moving to settle himself back on his rock.

The dodo looked fully cooked when she lifted the shirt from her head and blinked away the grogginess. He'd given her clothing―she immediately pulled the coarse shirt over her head and grabbed at the pile. Pants, some kind of wrap for her head. Shoes!

A cut on her foot was bleeding slightly but she tugged the stiff cloth over her heels and tried not to think about it. Kasimir produced a stone axe and began hacking parts of the dodo from the body, careful not to lose any into the fire. He thrust a drumstick at her.

It smelled wonderful and her stomach didn't protest. But...

She could feel the prickliness of the dried tears around the corners of her eyes. She hadn't had enough courage to ask for help―and he was giving her food and clothing anyway. Somewhere deep in her mind, she worried about that. Why?

Nevermind, Del, she told herself. Think about that later. Eat now, while you can.

Kasimir threw bones onto the hide that held now-stinking dodo guts, and she did the same. Once the food was gone, he grabbed up the corners and hauled it off. Down the slope toward the river, where he tossed the whole of it into the water. Del crept to the edge of the rocks and watched him, wondering.

Within a few seconds the bloodied water began to froth with frantic motions, a swarm of malicious-looking fish―piranha, she "knew"―tearing into the scraps. Kasimir stood and watched them eating, and slowly made his way back up to the hut.

"Dark soon," he said, his voice low.

Del looked up at the sky, noticing the color of the sky was fading. She turned her gaze back to him, her eyebrows drawing together. Kasimir stalked noiselessly across the ground, limping slightly, opening the door to the hut. He paused for a long moment, then motioned for her to follow him.

The inside of the hut was standing room only, almost. A tattered bed took up half of the floor. Kasimir dropped onto it, his knees up and elbows resting on them. Del pulled the door shut behind her, sliding along the wall and settling herself into the corner. She pulled her knees up to her chest again and stared at him through the deepening darkness.

"How do you stand it?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

Kasimir fixed his eyes on her, staring at her incomprehensibly. Del swallowed hard and looked down.

"Alive," he said. He lifted a hand and stared at his palm, then made a fist.

"Alone," she said.

Kasimir shrugged one shoulder. He scratched at his arm, the scar marks. Then the sun went down like a light had been switched off, flooding the room with darkness.

Del's hands tightened on her shins. She smothered the whimper she wanted to make.

Her eyes never adjusted to the dark. It was too deep.

Del closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, laying her head back onto the rough thatch of the hut.


	3. The Beach

Morning brought more confusion. As soon as she managed to drag herself out of the hut, Kasimir pushed a hatchet into her hands and motioned for her to follow him. He spent several hours chopping down trees some distance away from the hut, using a makeshift carryall to bring the sections of wood to the camp. Del stayed close, surveying the area.

There were mountains in the distance, bordering on all sides except one. Trees obscured most of―wherever this was―but the beach was open, rocks strewn about and driftwood everywhere. Del wondered how many trees Kasimir had chopped down, in the time he'd been there.

The ocean was peaceful. Birds swooped down and plucked out fish, carrying them off. Fins in the distance would sometimes break the water, then vanish. The waves were gentle, lapping at the shore but never too strongly.

Kasimir drank freely from the ocean, using his hands. He never stepped into the water. Probably a good idea, Del thought. The air felt wonderful, but she was willing to bet that there were more dangers out _there_ than on land.

Beside the dodos that wandered everywhere, she saw more of the turtles. Enormous things, lumbering up onto the beach to eat berries from the bushes. Kasimir ate from the bushes, too, stripping the branches efficiently. She'd tried one of the purple berries, finding the taste sweeter than anything she'd ever eaten.

It wasn't quiet. Birds cooed, waves splashed, turtles grunted, even the trees made whispering noises. Further away, animals made trumpeting noises like enormous geese. She heard the terrible roar again and slipped on a slight incline, falling forward onto her hands and knees.

Kasimir stopped, pulling the carryall up on his back, a stone pick clinking against his hatchet. He scanned the area thoroughly, eyes never stopping for long, then turned and held out a hand to her.

She took it without thinking. Kasimir's hands were chapped, knotted with callouses. Hers weren't. He pulled her up without a word, releasing her when she was righted.

"What is that," she whispered.

Kasimir shook his head and shifted the carryall, moving away. She followed.

At the camp, he began processing the wood, chopping and shaving away at it. Every little bit that was chipped away went onto a laid-out hide, bigger pieces sorted out. He stacked logs to the side.

Del felt lousy, not knowing how to help. She stripped the nearby bushes of berries and started sorting them into different colors, for lack of something to do. Small piles slowly grew bigger, spilling over the leaf litter.

Her stomach growled again. Del reached down and grabbed a handful of the white berries, popping one into her mouth. They were tart, but just sweet enough to offset the taste. She downed the handful.

Her gums started to burn. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, the back of her throat suddenly dry and painful. She coughed, repeatedly, trying to rid herself of the feeling. Every breath she took was hot, like fire was brushing across her teeth.

It was agonizing. Finally, when she could stand it no more, she jumped up and ran down the incline toward the water. Dropped to her knees in the shallows, plunging her hands into the cool water and making a wet mess of herself as she swallowed several handfuls of water. Relief, when the feeling began to subside―

A hand pulled her backward from the water, followed by a wet and disgusting sound as Kasimir brought his hatchet down into the head of a piranha that had been aiming itself at her. He dislodged the tool and turned to her, a disapproving look on his face. Del scooted backward on the sand, her elbows sinking in and slipping.

She'd forgotten about that. The pirahna might have bitten her―she stared at the creature as it began to float away into the deeper end of the pool, then shuddered at the frothing blood and flurry of activity.

"S-sorry," she stuttered, the pain in her mouth slowly fading.

He said nothing, just walked away.

* * *

The second day, they went hunting on the other side of the beach. Berries were good for a snack and although they were everywhere―the turtles didn't mind sharing―meat was far more filling. Del stayed away from the white berries, and Kasimir shook his head at the darker ones. She'd tossed them into the trees, watching a dodo amble along and peck at the scattered bounty. It gobbled up its prize greedily, then slumped and lay in the bush with its legs twitching.

She swallowed the nasty taste in her mouth, trying not to think about it.

Finding prey was easy. Dodos were as dumb as she "remembered", standing around on the beach and chirruping like there was nothing to be afraid of. She could literally walk up and pet them, they were so oblivious.

Kasimir handed her a spear and mimicked jabbing it at the birds. He approached a dodo and stabbed it through the neck, killing it in one stroke. The others fled from him, flapping useless wings and waddling comically.

Del looked up at Kasimir, hesitantly. He pulled the spear from the dodo's neck and pointed at the others.

"I―" she said, her breath catching in her throat. She'd never had to do anything like that before.

...She thought, anyway. She moved from one foot to the other, watching the feathered things flap their useless wings in distress.

Kasimir shook his head again, leaning down to grab the dodo he'd killed. Del cringed at herself. "I've never hunted," she told him.

"Don't hunt, don't eat," he stated, very plainly.

Del opened her mouth in reply but a strange hissing sound behind her caught her attention. Her head turned in time to catch a glob of stinging green spit―she shrieked, backing up in panic, blinking furiously and trying to clear her face of the stuff.

Kasimir was up and on the thing, as she stumbled toward the water. His grunts came alongside the thing's hisses and screeches of pain, until finally it let loose one loud cry and stopped making noise.

Del fell into the water, scrubbing furiously at her eyes and nose, breathing fast and trying not to hyperventilate. She spat out goop and plunged her head in and held her breath, washing away what she could. She finally came up for air, gasping loudly and coughing hoarsely.

Kasimir was standing away from the lapping waves, bleeding in silence. Del wiped her hair from her face and looked up at him, blinking away stray drops. "What―" she managed, before coughing again. "What the hell was that!"

He looked to the thing, then back at her. "Spitter."

Del trudged out of the water, dripping everywhere. She was sure she looked pathetic. She felt pathetic. Coughing up the last lungful of water, she moved across the sand toward the thing. What was―

A two-legged, slightly feathered, scaled creature lay on the beach. A row of bloodied teeth gaped in its mouth. Clawed hands―

"That's a goddamn _dinosaur!"_ she breathed. "Wh―"

Everything that she'd thought she'd known about the island suddenly shook its head and admitted defeat. The dodos. The giant spike-backed turtles. And now―maybe she could believe that the dodos weren't entirely extinct―stranger things had happened―but these―these spitters were definitely dinosaurs.

She wasn't on Earth. Couldn't be. Everything was all wrong, here. Animals were wrong, plants were wrong, the thing in her arm was wrong, the water was wrong, _she_ was wrong―

Del collapsed onto the sand, hitting it weakly with her fists. Thoughts in her head swarmed around like the piranhas in the river, chewing up everything she tried to order, leaving her mind a bloody mess of fragmented words and pain. A headache slammed into her temples, the hair on the back of her head prickling as if someone was squeezing her skull―

She groaned into the air, loudly, grabbing her ears and screwing up her face. _How?_ How was it possible? When would anything make sense! How could it _ever_ make sense?!

Kasimir stood by, watching her. And how long had he really been on this island? His beard was down to his chest, hair shaggy and nearly touching his shoulders. Scars everywhere.

Had he been fighting dinosaurs and eating dodos for months? Years? _He'd_ never escaped, that was for sure―

She pressed her forehead into the sand, eyes closed and body shuddering with sobs.


	4. Memories

On the sixth night, Del made six notches in a flat piece of driftwood she'd collected. She'd stopped talking to Kasimir after her outburst on the beach. She was too angry to talk. Too frustrated.

If this wasn't... if she wasn't on Earth, then where the hell was she?

Anger took her, and she meted it out on the trees and rocks and dodos that stupidly wandered through the area. She even broke the pestle in the mortar, grinding up a piece of flint. Kasimir hadn't said a word about it. Of _course_ he hadn't.

She stared at the fire, watching the bird leak juices into the coals. Her attack on the thing was especially brutal. Dozens of holes sizzled out runny fat, her frustration in action.

When it came time to eat, she spat out tiny flecks of rock. Kasimir cleaned up as always, walking off to feed the piranhas.

Del sat and listened to the sounds of the trees, waiting for him to return. Her thoughts were still a mess. If only she knew why―why she'd been put here. If she could figure out what was going on, maybe―if―

But what if she never found out? Her stomach twisted into knots. What if she was stuck here, with a terse Robinson Crusoe, her an unwilling Man Friday, for the rest of her life? Maybe they could get out, or make a signal fire, or―find other people―

But the others were dead and gone, Kasimir said. Were they, really? Had they wandered off into the forests, gone off to try to find answers, and he stayed behind assuming they'd died? She heard the echoing roar again, a shiver running down her spine. Maybe he was right. There were _dinosaurs_ running around.

But... what if the others had survived out there? That meant she could, right? If only she―

Del sighed, heavily. She covered her face with her hands, stifling a groan. It was too much.

"They went to the trees," Kasimir said, suddenly. She lowered her hands, wiping them onto her pants, and looked up at him. He settled himself on his rock again, staring into the fire. "North, east. Sometimes west. Never came back."

Del breathed out slowly, trying to calm herself. His face was serious in the fading light. "You didn't leave," she said.

"Once." He poked at the fire, carefully. Dropped the stick into it. Didn't meet her gaze.

"And?" she asked, the word thrown at him like a stone.

He didn't react to her anger. "Spitters are easy," he said.

"Easy!" she nearly shouted. They'd fought off several of the things in the last few days, chasing them away from the dodos. The spit smelled disgusting and hardened to a painfully-removed crust if it wasn't washed off immediately. They bit hard, and the marks left would inevitably swell up into a hard red lump. They were, in no way, _easy_.

"Bigger danger out there," Kasimir replied. His hand went to his arm, gouges glaring on his skin. "Worse things."

"But what if that's the way out?" she snapped. "What if we go up north and there's a―a city, or a ship, or―" She stood and pointed at the towers in the sky. "Or whatever those things are, what if they're the way out!?"

Kasimir shook his head. "No." He dropped his hand to his side. "No." He stared into the fire, gloomily.

"How do you know?" Del yelled, throwing up her hands in frustration. "How long have you really been here?!"

"Too many days," he said, simply. His eyes were blank, the fire reflected in them.

That was when her anger broke. Hearing the sound in his voice, she realized―he'd given up. He'd left the shore, but came back. He didn't need to go anywhere, now. Even if he'd never tried to get to those things up there, he didn't want to leave this place anymore.

He knew he would die on this island.

That was depressing as hell, and she didn't want to believe it was true. "There has to be a way," she moaned, sinking back onto the ground. "What if we left here?"

Kasimir grumbled, loudly, moving away from the fire and toward the hut. "You go," he muttered, angrily.

"Kasimir―" she started, but stopped herself. The look he shot her was scathing. He moved into the hut, shutting the door behind him.

Del curled up into herself, rocking back and forth and watching the fire die. The sun went down, leaving her looking into black treetops outlined by stars. The sounds of the forest were muted but not gone, small coos and clicking and rustling and loud footsteps in the deeper parts.

It was colder, tonight. The weather was wrong, too. Wet, hot, dry, cold, but there was no reason to it. Clouds formed immediately before it rained, bunching up over the beach. The heat waves came whenever they wanted, sometimes lasting only a minute. Chill would set into her bones seconds after she had been sweating furiously.

Her mind was sore of overthinking everything. She couldn't turn it off, even if she wanted to. She was so exhausted by the quiet, by trying to stay alive.

She rocked back and forth for what felt like forever, under the uncaring stars.

* * *

A few more days passed. Del gathered materials, making spears and learning how to skin the hide from the spitters. She'd seen a triceratops, even bigger than she'd ever imagined it as a child. Other dinosaurs wandered about, too, even pteranodons. It was like she'd been thrown backward in time.

Started remembering things better, if she could even trust her memory. She was Delia Copelin. Her parents moved to Kansas City before she was born. She'd grown up there. She'd had boyfriends, graduated high school. Those memories were ordinary, she thought. Normal, even.

But whatever normal was, now, she didn't know.

She didn't talk to Kasimir for days. He didn't speak either. The noise of the forest was enough company. She understood, now. Why he was so quiet.

The dodo that had been following her about was cooing gently, sitting at the base of a big tree near the hut. It'd eaten the dark berries she tossed out, again, and fallen asleep. Del watched it from time to time, wondering why it stayed nearby when they'd eaten so many of its kind.

But it gave her an idea.

She ate the dark berries when the notches in her timekeeper numbered fourteen. It wasn't that she was trying to hurt herself. She just wanted to sleep. She hadn't slept well since she came to this place―wherever it was.

The berries only brought her nightmares. The long black, she was falling through space again. Pain rocketed through her arms and legs, her head swelling up near to explode as she tumbled. The screeches of spitters and their sharp teeth nipping at her, tearing her into pieces, and she couldn't fight them off―

When she woke up, Kasimir was holding her arms down, looming over her in the twilight of dawn. Her eyes hurt, her tongue stung. She could taste blood in her mouth, feel the bristles of the thatch poking into her back, see his concerned face.

She calmed herself, swallowing the horrible taste in her mouth, letting her legs fall to the floor of the hut. He removed his hands from her wrists, the pressure suddenly gone but the warmth of skin replaced with a rush of cool air.

She stared into Kasimir's eyes, seeing sadness in the shallows. Understanding. He knew what she'd done. Maybe he'd done the same, once. Maybe he didn't blame her for it.

Del pried herself out of the hut, stumbling to the grass, and threw up into a thicket. She dry heaved for minutes afterward, her skin coated with sweat and chills running up and down her body, tears in her eyes and feeling absolutely miserable.

A waterskin, grimy-looking but full, entered her field of vision. Kasimir stood beside her, holding it out. "Better," he said, pushing it forward by an inch or two.

Del grabbed at the skin, downing the contents. Her stomach was weak still, hands trembling.

She handed it back, feeling ashamed of herself. "Thank you," she mumbled.

He nodded. "Welcome."

She hesitated. "Kasimir," she said, her voice thick in her throat. "Where did you come from? Before you were... here."

He stared over her tilted head, into the trees. As if he were searching his memory, trying to find the right one. "Berlin," he said, finally.

"Germany." Del coughed. "...I'm from Kansas."

He glanced down at her. The corner of his eye twitched. "The States."

"Yeah." She reached out a hand to balance herself on a tree. "I want to go home," she whispered, pitifully. "I just... I want to go home."

Kasimir reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it slightly, then moved away from her. He put the waterskin into the carryall and looped it around a shoulder, holding his hatchet in one hand. She watched him walking into the trees, off to cut wood.

Her head hurt pretty badly, still, all the sourness in her guts churning.

She pushed herself off of the tree and followed.


	5. Sailback

`With two hands to do the work, the job was done much more quickly. Kasimir cut extra wood every day for a week, paring it down to thin pieces, and collected fiber from bushes for one more. The fluff that came from the wood was set aside, then woven into a lattice that he began building sometime during the second week. She kept track of the days, each time night fell, covering her timekeeper with scratches. Four weeks had passed.

Del hunted dodos and cleaned them, cooking the meat and feeding the piranhas and avoiding spitters as much as she could. It wasn't always possible. She was washing out a bite wound and hissing in pain when she noticed the first other human being she'd seen on the island.

He was standing in the forest across the water, quietly watching her. Wore hide clothing, a small fin of stretched hide over wood decorating his back. He turned away after she'd seen him, disappearing into the trees.

She went back to the hut right then and there. Dropped her kill by the fire and went to Kasimir, his arm muscles rigid as he held a beam in place on the wall lattice. "I saw someone," she said, holding out his waterskin.

He secured the wall, taking a drink from the skin before raising an eyebrow at her. She described the man to him.

"Sailback." Kasimir frowned. He moved away from her, into the hut, and pulled something from under the raggedy bed. A small book he held open and studied for a moment. His frown only deepened.

"Who is Sailback?" she asked, curious.

"Too far in," he muttered. Looked at her through the open doorway, then away, a brooding look on his face.

"What?" Del gave him a confused look.

"Too far," he repeated, turning back to her.

She screwed up her face with more concern. Kasimir snapped the book shut, stuffing it back under the bed, and exited the hut. He surveyed the sky, then the treetops, then stared intensely into the forest. He moved to the outcropping and stared down over it.

"Stay," he told her. He disappeared down toward the water.

Del moved up onto the outcropping, careful to keep herself from falling or leaning out too far. The man with the fin on his back was standing at the base of the rocks, an enormous dinosaur behind him. A saddle was attached to it, near the base of its neck. The gigantic sail on its back was a muted bluish color. It had an enormously long body attached to a crocodile-like snout―filled to the brim with teeth. Del's eyes narrowed, her fingers clutching at the rocks.

Kasimir walked across the sand, stopping about ten feet from the man. He said something angrily. The Sailback man crossed his arms over his chest. The reply was long, the man spouting off something just as heatedly. The creature beside him shuffled its feet, snorting loudly.

Kasimir shook his head. Del couldn't hear what was being said. She saw the Sailback man go to the dinosaur and pull out a shiny object, moving to hand it to Kasimir. A metal sword? Kasimir shook his head again, more violently. His voice raised over the sounds of the ocean and trees and snuffling of the dinosaur.

"No," he said. "I will not honor it."

The Sailback man raised the sword and brandished it at Kasimir, bringing the flat of the blade around and striking him in the face. Del started, pushing off of the rocks and moving fast down toward the water. No―she needed him, she'd imagined too many times being left alone on this godforsaken island―

The Sailback man spat at Kasimir, whose head had turned with the blow, and threw the blade down. It stuck into the sand at his feet, quivering. Del stopped as she reached the bottom of the slope, ducking behind a tree and clutching the bark.

"You are no friend of Sailbacks," the man said.

"I will not fight for you," Kasimir replied, lifting his head. Blood oozed from his face, dripping from his beard and onto his shirt. Del watched the stain growing, her chest tight and heart pounding. "Not anymore."

"You are no Heart-of-Iron," came the reply. "You are a weak old man."

"No," Kasimir said, but she couldn't tell whether he was agreeing with the first part or disagreeing with the latter. She glanced at the dinosaur, swinging its head back and forth.

"When you see us, you will die," the man growled, moving to the dinosaur and climbing onto the saddle. "You know this."

Kasimir said nothing. Del watched the man lead the dinosaur into the water and swim away. Kasimir slowly bent down and picked up the sword, tilting it. Carefully, he moved back toward the slope.

"I said stay," he told her, as he passed her.

"He attacked you," she breathed, her heart finally slowing its frantic pace. "You're bleeding."

"You need to listen," he said, moving back up to the camp.

"But he could've killed―"

Kasimir stopped, turning and flicking out the sword quickly, placing it under her chin and tapping up. She swallowed, audibly, lifting her chin to avoid it. "No," he said, withdrawing the sword. He began walking again.

Del took a deep and shaking breath.

* * *

"Why did he call you Heart-of-Iron?" she asked Kasimir, the next day.

Kasimir didn't reply, only continued undoing the material from the hut. He'd expanded it but one side was still open, waiting for a wall.

"Why did he want you to fight?" she pressed. "Who?"

He ignored her. patiently unbinding the thatch. Del frowned. "Kasimir, please―"

"You do not need to know." He pried out a broken wooden beam, careful not to disturb the corner.

"I want to know," she said, pointedly.

"You would go," he replied, pulling a piece of thatch a little roughly.

"I won't―" she stopped. Something clicked in her mind. The others, the ones who came before her. All of them had gone. Kasimir thought they were dead maybe, but they were gone nonetheless, and―he'd told her to leave, before. She hadn't. He'd started making the hut bigger, then.

Did they leave him here? Alone? To wait for the next person who would leave, too?

Did... he think she would leave and she hadn't... and he tried to hope?

Del felt the emotion building up in her chest, her ears hurting from pressure. "I won't go," she said, as sincerely as she could. "I want to know. If something happens, I need to know."

His hands worked steadily through the thatch, eyes hooded and face set into a neutral expression. Del stood beside the foundation, awkwardly. Unsure what to do, she crawled up onto the surface and closer to him. Her fingers moved through the thatch the same as his.

"It is not easy," he said, finally. His hands stilled.

"No," she agreed.

"It is not pleasant, either."

"Nothing here is fucking pleasant," Del grumbled.

Kasimir coughed. "Sailback lives in the river. Across Weathertop. At war with Woodsmen. Snow Children."

"Tribes on the island?" She stopped her work to watch his face.

"Yes." He pulled another piece of thatch. "I was Sailback. Woodsmen. Snow Children."

"All of them?" Del frowned.

"They paid." Kasimir turned and tossed a piece of wood off the foundation and into a pile.

"Was that what the sword was for?" she asked, reaching up and pulling out a tuft of fiber from the wall. "Payment? So you'd fight for them?"

"No. I broke a deal." Kasimir breathed out. "Enemies, now."

"What deal?"

He turned away. She could see the wound on his face, crossing the previous scar.

"Kasimir?"

He moved down onto the ground, standing over the pile of wood and staring down into it. She could see his hands shaking as he placed them onto his hips and gripped the fabric of his pants.

The roar sounded again. It sounded closer than it ever had. Del's head jerked up, eyes gone wide. Kasimir's gaze was on the forest again, searching. She pulled her legs up to her chest and curled up, looking into the treetops.

Thundering footsteps could be heard, slowly growing louder.

Kasimir moved back onto the foundation, ripping the last bits of thatch out quickly, yanking the frame out of place with rapid jerks. He tossed everything to the ground and pulled up the last wall, joined to a ceiling piece, lashing it down. Del moved onto the tattered bed and stared out of the open doorway, her knuckles going white on her shins. When the wall was secured Kasimir shut the door and held the sword at his knees, crouching onto his heels.

"No sound," he mouthed at her.

She wasn't going to make any noise, that was for sure.


	6. Stalkers

It was dark out by the time the creature had gone away, letting out another loud roar and running after something that gave an equally loud bellow. The footsteps faded and did not come back.

Del almost peed her pants, bursting out of the hut and making her way toward the edge of the firelight in order to relieve herself. Kasimir must have had the same problem. He stood on the opposite side, his sword in one hand, and she heard similar noises.

The dodo at the campfire was gone, where she'd staked it up to cook. Soft footprints in the dirt around the fire showed the spitters had taken it.

Kasimir made a soft tutting noise. Del felt the rumbling in her stomach, trying to ignore the ache. A soft whoosh came and she saw Kasimir had lit a torch. He motioned for her to go back inside the hut. "Back soon," he said, cryptically.

"You're leaving me here?" she whispered, crouch-walking to the campfire and warming herself near it. "Alone?"

"Food," he muttered. His hand flew out again. "Go."

Del didn't like the idea of him being out in the dark with only a torch and a sword. She especially didn't like that she would be stuck in the hut with nothing more than a hatchet to defend herself, after that―thing―had wandered so close to them. She opened her mouth to argue but the look on his face, made more eerie by the torchlight, intimidated her more than she wanted to admit.

She reluctantly moved into the hut, staring out of the open door. Kasimir stared back at her until she closed the door.

Del could see the torchlight moving around the edge of the hut, small fragments of light bleeding through the thatch where it needed repaired. Eventually it disappeared and Del curled up on the bed again, her mouth pressed into her knees and rocking back and forth on the rough blanket.

* * *

She woke with a start, her face pressed into the thatch floor where she'd finally passed out. The sun was bleeding through the thatch, now. Hurriedly she grabbed up her hatchet, moving to the door and opening it a crack.

The sun had risen while she slept, but Kasimir was nowhere to be seen. Del slipped out of the hut, closing the door behind her, and searched around the camp. No sign of him. Her heart pounded heavily. She had to bite her tongue to stop her lower jaw from trembling in panic.

"Kasimir?" she asked the air, careful to keep her voice no louder than a conversation. The sounds of the forest had all but stopped, a strange hush over the area. Del's eyes moved frantically through the undergrowth, the trees, the rocky outcropping, the water. Her stomach ached so badly she could barely stand it.

She lowered herself to a crouch, pulling a handful of the red berries off a bush. A dodo egg was under the bush, probably rolled there once it was laid. She grabbed it and poked a hole, sucking out the contents. Not her idea of breakfast, but good enough to keep her stomach from jumping through her throat.

She moved toward where Kasimir had gone, gripping the hatchet tightly. She hadn't been through that area of the forest, yet. Kasimir hadn't gone that way since she first arrived, staying along the shore instead. Del moved from foot to foot, debating on what to do.

The buzzing she'd felt when she arrived on the island began to bother her. She felt it occasionally―usually whenever she was away from Kasimir― but now it was growing more and more powerful inside her head. The feeling was uncomfortable and she didn't know what it meant.

Del stepped into the trees, moving toward a rock she could see from the hut. As she passed it, she felt an immediate change in the power of the buzzing. She glanced around her, muscles tensed and hatchet raised. Another rock loomed in the distance. She walked carefully across the ground.

Every landmark she passed, the buzzing grew less strong. She tried to go as straight as possible, keeping the rocks in sight and memorizing the area as best she could. The cooing of dodos faded, replaced by the occasional sound of a spitter hissing, but none bothered her. Her stomach wobbled with nerves, hand shaking slightly.

She stopped. Sniffed the air. A fire. Del hit the nearest rock and clambered up on top of it, peering through the trees. She spotted the smoke right away, and flattened herself on the broad, flat rock as words floated through the growth.

"...Himself, down by the beach." A derisive laugh sounded. "Was some girl with him." A boy, sounded younger than her. More new people―Del fought her nerves again.

"Gonna go get her?" A woman, mature.

"Missed the window," the first voice said. "Gone by now."

"If she's still hanging out with Kasimir, she's not skilled enough to survive without him," the woman pointed out.

Del cringed. It was true, but―well, she'd promised Kasimir she wouldn't go. Even if, right now, all she wanted to do was run away and hide, she wouldn't turn her back on him. He was all she had on the island, all she knew.

She peeked out as far as she could, without lifting herself off of the rock. She couldn't see anyone in the area, but she could smell the smoke very heavily.

"If you want to wade through dodo shit to go get some useless bitch, be my guest," the boy said.

"Don't be an asshole, Twitch." Del could hear some kind of scraping sound, and ducked her head down as a head began to pass by the rock. A dark-skinned woman passed under the edge and out into the trees, toward Kasimir's camp. Del made a face. They knew where it was...

She crept forward on the rock, looking over the edge. It was a sheer drop, but below her the boy stood brandishing the sword that Kasimir had gotten from the Sailback. In his other hand he held a gun―as impossible as that seemed to Del. She bit her lip.

Near him and sitting on the ground, was Kasimir. His head was bowed and arms trapped, tied up in rope. He didn't move―she breathed raggedly, watching him. Finally, she noticed the slightest of movement. He was knocked out, not dead.

Thank God. Del looked back to see if the woman was out of sight before she plucked up her courage and pulled out her spear. She crouched on the edge of the rock, trying to gauge the distance. Aimed herself carefully.

Prayed she wasn't getting herself killed.

The spear hit his collarbone and lodged, and she drove it deeper when she landed on him. The boy fell forward, yelping in pain, the spear breaking with the motion. She tumbled over his head, her legs knocking into a thin tree and pushing it over. "Twitch" made an awful noise, making her heart lurch in panic and fear.

Del pulled herself up as quickly as she could, and saw what had happened. She was lucky. The sword had been in mid swing and was now poking out of his left back muscle. It went right through his stomach. Del backed up a step and blinked, collecting her wits.

Kasimir was still unconscious, propped up against a rock. She looked for the end of the ropes but couldn't find it, and glanced back to the boy groaning in agony on the ground. Lifted him up with both hands, grunting. Turned him over and winced.

Blood everywhere. Del grabbed the sword handle and put a foot onto his chest, pulling and pushing at the same time. The boy―he really was a boy, probably 16 or so―made a godawful noise as the blade slicked out of his stomach. He limply grabbed at the ground beside him and stared into the sky in shock.

Del cut the ropes binding Kasimir carefully, slapping at his face gently and trying to wake him. Nothing happened but him sliding across the rock and landing in a heap beside it. She cursed under her breath, looking around. The dark-skinned woman might spend half an hour looking for her, might spend ten minutes. There wasn't any guarantee she wouldn't come back and find her partner nearly dead right this moment, even.

He'd stopped moaning. Del looked over at him, seeing his chest no longer moving. She'd killed him.

She didn't stop to think. Grabbed the gun and a bag from his side, retreating to the hidden side of the rock. Looked through the stuff, found the bullets. The pistol was already loaded, but still―Del pressed herself against the rock, breathing heavily, then climbed it again and waited, hiding herself as best she could.

If this was home, she would have―called the police on her cell, and bawled her eyes out.

...This wasn't home.


	7. Made the Tribe

The camp wasn't safe anymore, but she didn't know where else to take him. Kasimir was heavy and dragging him through the bushes toward the water was hard. But he was wounded and unconscious, and she needed somewhere to put him and the only place she knew of was the camp. Blood stopped soaking the bushes about halfway there.

She managed to haul him to the doorway before a familiar hissing sound behind her made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Without a thought, she jumped to the side and turned, striking out at the spitter.

It raised the frills around its neck and reared back to spit again, but she hit it―again and again―until it fell to the leaf litter. Del breathed unsteadily, her hands bleeding from the assault, and realized it was still alive.

Unconscious, just like Kasimir. She grabbed his sword and stared down at the thing, ready to hit it and kill it but stopped herself.

The dodo that had eaten the dark berries was back. It chirruped at her, as if welcoming her back to the camp. She had a strange thought.

The Sailback man controlled a dinosaur much larger than this little spitter, and even equipped it with a saddle. What if? This whole place had been a series of "what ifs", but what if the dodo was tame?

Del turned to the stupid dodo and said a silent apology. Not the first murder I committed today, she thought.

Every so often the spitter lifted its head weakly, and she fed it a slice of raw dodo meat. While she was waiting, she pulled Kasimir into the hut and managed to lay him on the bed.

His wounds were pretty bad, but the blood was congealing. She'd need to clean him up before anything else.

After running down to the water and filling his skin, she was met by the spitter standing calmly near the door. She stopped, staring at it and lifting the sword. It tilted its head and stared back, then made a soft trilling noise.

She edged nearer. It watched her without making a move, making noises every so often, standing in place and not budging. Her idea had panned out.

Del cleaned up Kasimir's face and arms using the remains of his shirt. The trip through the brush tore it to shreds, barely enough to cover. She looked over his wounds, but they appeared to be simple cuts and scrapes. The bigger concern was him being unconscious for so long.

She chewed on her lip and thought about that. The dark berries made animals and humans sleep. Those white ones had made her mouth burn but she was wide awake after, even if she had to dash to the water. Maybe...

She crushed some of the berries in the mortar and made a paste. There was residue in the bowl from the flint she'd ground, but she barely cared. Fed the concoction to Kasimir slowly, watching his Adam's apple bobbing.

He had so many scars. Del sat and waited, feeling her whole body shaking from the strain of everything that had happened. Her eyes moved over the endless chaos of scars, trying to imagine living long enough to get so many. Trying to imagine her own skin looking the same.

"Please wake up, Kasimir," she whispered, staring at him. His breathing was steady. She buried her face and tried not to cry. Maybe the berries wouldn't work. Maybe she'd made him worse.

She didn't want to think about that.

Finally, he coughed. When she looked up he was sitting up, staring at the wall and blinking. "Thank God," she gasped.

He looked around, still blinking rapidly. "Wh―" he started, then coughed again, wracking coughs that bent him over and sounded awful. Del watched him, alarmed.

"Water," he croaked, when he'd managed to get a breath in. Del grabbed the skin and thrust it at him. He drained the whole of it in a gulp.

Once he was composed again, he winced in pain. Started touching his wound sites, prodding them with two fingers. Del put a hand on his, shaking her head. "Don't―"

He looked at her, his usually sharp blue eyes clouded with pain. She dropped her hand from his, and looked away in sympathy.

"Shirt," he muttered.

"I used it as rags," she said.

Kasimir swore. Del's eyes widened. He'd never acted like that before. "I'm sorry," she added, softly.

"Don't be." He turned his arm over, looking at a gouge in the muscle. "Where are..." Looked up at her, questioningly.

Del coughed, nervously. "Gone. Dead."

For the first time ever, she saw him smile. It was a sad smile, because he knew what she'd had to do, but it was a smile nonetheless. The corners of his eyes turned up a bit, his whole face transforming and making him look much younger than she'd thought he was.

She didn't care if he never smiled again. He was alive, awake, and she wasn't alone on this island with roaring dinosaurs and warring tribes and the impossible gun that she had stashed away when she brought Kasimir back.

Del felt the tears building up in her eyes and almost threw herself at him, shuddering. Even if he pushed her away, she had to hug him. He'd woken up.

Kasimir grunted in pain when she grabbed him, putting his hand on her arm to pry her away.

Del breathed in and out, trying to calm down, feeling her eyes stinging.

He stopped himself, staring at her. "All good," he said, quietly.

"It's not safe here," she muffled, into his shoulder.

"Nothing is fucking safe here," he said, but his voice was lighthearted.

Del coughed out a laugh, and rubbed her forehead on his skin. "No," she agreed.

It was quiet for a moment. "...You did not go," he asked, though it really sounded like a statement.

"I said I wouldn't," she told him.

Kasimir smiled again.

* * *

"Stalkers," Kasimir said, later on. He was staring at the spitter, watching it listening to the forest around the camp and making bobbing motions with its head.

"Is that a tribe?" Del asked, slicing the wing of a dodo off as it rested above the fire.

"Paid," he replied, looking back to her.

"So, like... you?" She passed him the food.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Not like me."

He was quiet then, chewing his food solemnly. He picked a piece of fat from the dodo, tossing it to the spitter.

"The Sailbacks paid them?" Del wondered. She'd almost worked out the whole thing. Tribes on the island fought, and sometimes they hired extra help. Like Kasimir.

He shook his head. "Maybe Crazy Bones."

Del swallowed. "Who's Crazy Bones?"

"Lives in the east."

She sighed. Trying to get anything useful out of him was impossible. "I need to know, Kasimir," she said, somewhat annoyed.

He looked up at her, his face closed in and dark. Finally, he spoke. "I killed his..." he made a waving motion with his hands, outlining what appeared to be a wavy snake. His hand came back around, the motion indecipherable by that point. "Big. Long neck."

"Long neck." Del thought for a moment, chewing on the bird. "Like a brontosaurus or something?"

Kasimir shrugged a shoulder. "Crazy Bones fights with long necks. Easy to see coming."

"And you killed one?"

He held up three fingers, keeping his index and thumb together. "Sailbacks paid," he said.

"You killed three brontosauruses?" Del asked, gaping at him.

He tossed the bone to the spitter, who sniffed at it and began to crush it with sharp teeth. "More, sometimes."

"How," she breathed.

He shrugged again. Del pouted. "You can't just―you have to tell me," she protested. "That sounds―awesome, I want to hear it."

Now he spoke more readily. "I do not want to tell the story," he said, looking at her with a cold expression.

"Why not?" Del put her hands together. "Please?"

"It could hurt you," Kasimir said, an edge in his voice.

"But―"

He stared across the fire and set his face into a familiar mask, one she knew meant he wouldn't say a word more about the matter. Del's temper flared, her patience finally broken. "If you don't tell me, I'll just go," she muttered. "Might as well find out for myself."

He glared at her, forcing her to look away. She ducked her head down, suddenly embarrassed. "Then go," he said, angrily.

"Kasimir," she started, but he was up and away before she could finish thinking of what to say. He shut the door of the hut behind him.

She fed the dodo bones to the spitter, watching it chomp away happily at the carcass. Moved to the door and knocked on it, her face red and chest tight. "Kasimir?" she called, dropping her hand to the other and gripping her thumb to steady them.

He didn't answer. "I'm sorry," she said, through the door. "I―I won't go. I promised."

Still no answer. Del felt a little panicked, then. The camp wasn't safe, he knew that. She'd explained the deaths and showed him the gun, but he refused to touch it. If he didn't want her around―and he left the camp because it wasn't safe―

You're such an idiot, she told herself. She'd barely managed to kill the woman, even after emptying the gun at her. Maybe it was luck that she'd not been shot herself, but―

"Kasimir―" she fought to keep the desperation out of her voice. "I'm stupid, okay? I'm just a stupid teenager! I didn't mean anything―"

The door opened with a jerk. Del jumped in fright, staring up at Kasimir with a stricken look on her face. He moved back, sitting against a wall. She climbed into the hut, standing at the door and biting her lip. "Look, I―I asked too much, I know," she stammered out. "I just―"

"Stupid teenager," he said, interrupting her.

"Y-yes," she said, pinching her thumb so hard it hurt.

Kasimir snorted, leaning his head back. He watched her through slitted eyes, as she struggled to find the words.

"I―when you were―I left the camp," she said, nervously. "The―buzzing?" She waved her hand by her head. "Was bad. I had to―I had to find you," Del finished, lamely. "I didn't stay. I'm sorry."

Kasimir frowned deeply. He didn't say anything for a while, just lifted his arm and stared at the diamond there. It was scuffed and old-looking compared to hers. Del was worn out, her head swimming from the high of emotion and guilt and the threat of dying. She didn't know what to say, at all. She never knew what to say.

He made a rumbling sound deep in his throat. "Made the tribe," he said, rubbing his hand over his beard.

"W-what?"

He looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head. "Later," he said, looking extremely tired. "Sleep now."

"Okay?" Del looked out of the door, hesitantly. "...I'll just make sure the spitter is okay, first."

She did check on it, even if it was only an excuse to cry in private. The spitter was content to chew on bones and didn't pay her a lick of attention as she slumped to the ground and rocked back and forth, covering her face and trying to be quiet.

Eventually she went back inside and passed out on the bed.


	8. Crazy Bones

Del shifted the carryall to the other side, her shoulders sore from carrying it. The spitter had a small pack attached to its back, following behind her and Kasimir. Kasimir was hauling a heavier bag and still managed to outpace them.

They were traveling east, or so he said. The worst of it so far was that they had to cross several river mouths. Kasimir didn't like the water and refused to wade through it unless it was very shallow. She stared at the crossing they were about to make, and wondered why.

"I don't think it'll get more shallow than this," Del said, eyeing the water and keeping her ears open. It was probably up to her neck, if she walked along the bottom. The island on the other side was sandy, strewn with rocks of varying sizes but little in the way of trees. Ocean was to their left and right, and there was no other way around it. They would have to cross here.

Kasimir stood at the edge and stared down into the clear depths, his arms crossed over his chest. She started feeling cold, wished they had a campfire to set up. Not here on the beach but maybe a little further out... the island in front of them was invitingly sunny, even if it was probably filled with all manner of nasty creatures.

"Look, I'll go first," she said, rubbing her forearms. "Would that help?"

He didn't react. She was annoyed, after the day before. Embarrassed herself, made him mad, cried her eyes out, and he'd not even reacted to her prodding about his comments in the morning. He'd just packed and shoved a carryall at her, and started walking.

Del shivered, goosebumps rising on her arms. The water was probably colder than the air, but―she shrugged to herself. "Fine, I'm going over," she announced, and sloshed into the water.

It was warm, weirdly enough. Del started swimming, propelling herself across the small expanse to the rocky island. The spitter followed behind her, paddling furiously. On the other side, she was greeted with the familiar coos of dodos and an unknown musty stench.

She looked back across. Probably 20 feet or so, and Kasimir was still standing there like a lump. Whatever water had done to him, she didn't know, but they weren't going to get anywhere without taking a few shortcuts.

"Come on," she yelled over. "It's fine."

All of a sudden, she couldn't move her legs―a rope wrapped itself around her knees, pinning them together. She shrieked and fell forward into the sand, getting a mouthful of grains for the trouble. Hacking and coughing, she tried to turn and see what was going on―

A man wearing a dinosaur skull on top of his head, with various bones dangling from his clothes, grabbed her by one ankle and began to pull her away from the shore. She screamed at the top of her lungs, grabbing at the sand and trying to kick out. Her feet were useless, trapped in the rope, and she couldn't pull herself up far enough to reach it―

And just as suddenly, Kasimir was at her side. He hurled a palm-sized rock at the man, nailing him right in the back of the skull bone. "Crazy Bones," he said, hefting another rock in his hand. "Let her go."

The man turned and Del could see a lone glittering eye through the skull, sizing up Kasimir. He turned, not dropping her ankle, and brandished a blade. "Mine," he said, drawing the blade across his throat.

She blanched at the sight, making a pathetic noise in the back of her throat. Kasimir held up his arm, showing the diamond in his wrist. "My tribe. Not yours." He kept the rock in his other hand at the ready.

Crazy Bones turned his head to the other side, examining Kasimir. What could be seen of his mouth underneath the skull bone erupted into a grin, revealing three blackened teeth encased in a short white beard. "Wotcha, Heart-of-Iron?" he asked, cackling.

Del went still on the sand, watching silently. Kasimir shook his head. "It takes more than a few Stalkers to bring me down," he said. His knuckles were white on the rock.

"Hah!" the emaciated black man shot back.

"Drop her," Kasimir said.

Crazy Bones grunted, lowering Del's ankle to the ground. She immediately scooted backward, pulling at the ropes and trying to free herself. Kasimir moved to stand between the two of them, staring at the man, his jaw working.

She righted herself, brushing sand out of her hair and looking around for the spitter. It lay on its side nearby, legs wrapped in the same rope trap. She released it, but kept one hand on its shoulder as she moved up behind Kasimir.

"Why did you send them," he asked Crazy Bones.

The man cocked his head at him, eyes glittering and mouth drooping. "Wasn't me," he said, sounding serious.

"I don't believe you," Kasimir replied.

"S'truth," Crazy Bones replied, his hand going up and crossing his heart. "You and me, we had our row. Old men fighting old wars is just sad, now innit?"

Del looked back and forth between them. There was a stark difference in the men. Crazy Bones was short and hunched in with skin as black as the rocks around them, while Kasimir towered over him with a straight back and fair features. Crazy Bones was clearly speaking English, a slight British accent in his voice. Kasimir's voice was smooth when he did speak, but the hard sounds he made were jarring.

"If you did not send the Stalkers, then who did?"

Crazy Bones looked up and out, over the jungle. "You tick anyone off?" he asked, raising a hand to scratch under the skull.

"Sailbacks," Kasimir answered, lowering the rock to his side. His knuckles gained color again.

"Politics," Crazy Bones said, shaking his whole body and making a rattling racket of bones. "Come to the house, we'll talk." He turned and waved them to follow.

Del breathed in shallowly, looking up to Kasimir. He narrowed his eyes at the man's back as he weaved through the rocks, but picked his feet up and began moving.

She didn't understand any of this, but she never had. Del followed the men, shooting a glance back to the shore and wondering just what in the hell was going on.


	9. Unnamed

"An American girl," Crazy Bones said, staring at her over his campfire.

He'd built a stone house into the side of a huge rock. The back wall dripped with condensation brought on by the warmth of the fire and the outer coolness of stone, creating the moldy smell she'd noticed before. It was stronger inside the house, nearly gagging her with its power.

The spitter stayed outside when she told it to. Crazy Bones had other creatures out there, crested dinosaurs and a stegosaurus. Del was amazed that the tiny predator was at ease standing near to a creature that could have easily impaled it in one blow. In fact, none of the dinosaurs seemed to mind the spitter being there.

"So what?" she shot back, wary of the man. He'd tried to drag her off, for whatever reason he had to do so. She suspected a very nasty reason, but didn't want to think about it. She wasn't about to be friendly with him.

"How long have you been here?" he asked, glittering eyes stuck to her skin.

Kasimir was studying a large and roughly-drawn map tacked to the wall, his arms crossed over each other and face hard. Del kept her eyes on the old black man, her stomach flipping around inside of her and nerves jangling.

"How long have _you?"_ she shot back, tetchily.

"Yonks," he said, moving to sit cross-legged on the stone floor. "Longer than you've been alive. Heart-of-Iron and I had our fun, those days." He looked a bit wistful about it.

"...Whatever happened to your long necks, anyway?" Del asked, as innocently as she could but deliberately trying to offend.

"Oh!" Crazy Bones grabbed at his chest, as if his heart hurt. The motion set off a nearly deafening cascade of bone rattling.

She ignored him, focusing on the ropes in her lap. They were fastened to two rocks, a rough thread of fiber in her fingers. Bolas, he called them. She "knew" how to use them, after studying it for a moment.

Kasimir turned to Crazy Bones, jabbing a finger into the map and at some lettering.

"Unnamed."

"Not a clue," Crazy Bones said. "Can't get much out of the locals about them." He flapped a hand dismissively.

"New?" Kasimir's jaw clenched.

"Likely. Rumor of them up in the Maw, Grand Hills. Snow kids won't come down this far. They'd probably know more." Crazy Bones turned his attention back to Del, putting his hands in his lap. She pointedly ignored his staring.

"When did Woodsmen retreat?"

"Months ago." The old man shook his head. "Sailbacks took the land, the people. Anything left behind. Next thing I hear, they're running back to the river. Woodsmen gone, Sailbacks running. Maybe the kids finally got some gumption."

Kasimir made a thoughtful noise, staring at the map. Del craned her neck to see. Rough smears of dye stained the hide, outlining various areas. Names appeared in shaky cursive handwriting, one reading "Snow Children" far to the north. "Unnamed" was written near the middle top of the map, with a question mark beside it.

"What year was it, when you came?" Crazy Bones asked her, abruptly.

Del was caught off guard. "What do you mean?" she asked, warily.

"What I asked. When you woke up here, what year was it for you?"

"Why do you―" she frowned. It was an odd question, sure enough, but it only made her more curious as to what was going on. "Twenty fifteen?"

"...Two thousand fifteen?" Crazy Bones' eyes grew brighter under the skull, his back straightening out as he leaned forward in interest.

"Yes?" she said, leaning backward and away from him. His breath stunk under all the bones and mold, as if something had died in his mouth.

"Wonderful," he breathed. Del tried not to gag. "Did we win the war?"

Kasimir jerked upright, even more rigid than he'd ever been before, and strode to the door. He opened and shut it with a quick movement, going out of the house. Del was alarmed because―well, now she was alone with the nasty old man, but also―why?

"Which one?" she asked, cautiously.

"Don't tell me there were more than two big ones," he snapped. "Did we get those goddamn Germans?"

"Oh." She hesitated. "If you mean World War II, then yes." She screwed up her face, confused.

"Good!" the old man cackled, moving frantically in place. He looked like he was going to jump up and dance, he was so animated. The sound made her ears hurt.

"...What year was it for you?" Del asked, taken aback by his enthusiasm.

"Nineteen forty-three." Crazy Bones turned an eye to the door. "The Luftwaffe shot me down and I woke up here. I was lucky."

"Lucky," she repeated, trying to grasp what he was saying. Just how long had he been―how could he have been taken from―why had he been taken―

"Yes, lucky." Crazy Bones leaned backward, making a racket. "Could've died anytime." The old man's face fell. "Heard stories, didn't want to believe it. But it made killing the bloody bastards easier."

Oh. Del's eyes widened. Oh! "The Holocaust," she whispered.

"Is that what they call it?" Crazy Bones grumbled several swears under his breath.

Her face turned to the door. "When did Kasimir come to the island?" she asked, her voice very quiet. He'd said he was from Berlin―his hard words, the sounds―and his reaction to the question, all of it made her wonder.

"Before I did," the old man said. He coughed and scratched at his hair under the skull. "Don't know when. Man has a lot in his head, for someone who doesn't talk much."

"But―" Del frowned and looked back to him. "If you've both been here for a long time..."

"Right?" Crazy Bones said, rattling his bones again. "Yes. Doesn't make sense, does it? The whole island doesn't. Don't expect it to start being any less confusing, girl." He untangled a strand of tiny bones from his beard, grimacing. "Wait until you see your first Rex. It'll put you 'round the bend."

She breathed in, smelling the musty air and hearing the fire crackle and knowing that the minute she stepped outside everything would be insane. Just sitting across from an old man wearing a dinosaur skull and a hide shirt decorated with tiny claws and vertebrae was nuts enough, but to know the outside had more to offer―he meant a Tyrannosaurus rex, she was sure, and the thought terrified her to even imagine―

Del coughed and blinked back tears and tried to pretend she wasn't some idiot teenage girl who kept remembering stupid things about herself. Things like how she was more interested in her Twitter feed than how to start a fire or how if her cell was dead she would have "nothing to do".

If she could stop remembering that, she might feel better. Still couldn't recall everything about herself, but―if she was here for as long as Crazy Bones had been, or Kasimir, maybe she would.

But the longer she was here, the less she liked remembering. That was enough to make her want to cry again. She didn't want to remember because it made her miss home, because it made her feel useless and dumb. Like those idiots on the internet, all "cool story bro".

Maybe that was why Kasimir acted like he did. Because he remembered. Because he didn't want to.

Why did he leave the house, when the old man asked about the war? Was he―had he been in a concentration camp? Or―Del didn't like the thought that came to mind―was he a Nazi?

She shivered even in the heat of the fire, and pulled her legs up to her chest. "Why did you try to take me?" she asked Crazy Bones, staring at him over her knees.

He stopped moving, the sounds of clattering vertebra dying down. The glittering eyes under the skull vanished for a moment as he removed it from his head, placing it to the side. Del stared at a bald-headed and wrinkled man, about sixty years old, with a white beard and those horribly blackened teeth. He looked somber for a brief second, then his face split into a horrible grin.

"Gets lonely out here," he said, suggestively. "Wouldn't mind a little... _company."_

Del jumped up and left the house, immediately.


	10. Learn to Play

"I want to go," she announced to Kasimir. He was looking over one of the crested dinosaurs, eyes lowered and face gloomy. When she spoke, he cast his eyes away.

"We need the help," he muttered, lowly.

"That fucker is probably going to try to―" she didn't want to say it out loud. "I don't want to be here," she hissed.

Kasimir said nothing. Del bristled at him, the anger from the previous day, the morning, all of it, rearing its ugly head again. "Kasimir," she said, her voice slow and measured but angry, "Crazy Bones wanted to kidnap me for 'company' and I swear to God if we don't get out of here I might―"

Kasimir let out a loud sigh, patting the crested dinosaur. "You made the tribe," he said, interrupting her. He glanced over his shoulder at her, eyes still hooded. "Could not run, even if you wanted."

"And you still haven't explained that shit!" she snapped. Del put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "I'm all for―why we came here, hell if I know why that was, but this is just―"

Kasimir turned to her, grabbing up her left arm and touching the diamond in her skin. It lit up bright green, nearly blinding her with the intensity. After a moment the brightness went away and revealed―some kind of 3D interface? She could see a female figure―that was her! What the hell?

The image moved when she moved her arm. She looked it over thoroughly. It told her how hungry she was, how dehydrated she was. How close to death she was, even―which was not at all, thank God―and all the items she had on her person, listed in a box on the left.

Like a video game, she thought. That's so fucking weird...

Kasimir pointed to a spot in the middle of the screen. Her eyes moved to the text. "Delia Copelin" and "Tribe of Iron March", it said. She looked up to Kasimir, questioningly.

"The implant links tribe mates," he said, releasing her arm. She hadn't noticed he still had a grasp on her, until then. The holograph disappeared. She stared into the air where it had been, more confused than ever.

"So we're a tribe, now?" she asked, glancing up at him. "The Iron March?"

"That's the name," was all he offered.

"So I'm stuck with you," she muttered. "All bite and no bark. _Great."_

Kasimir turned back to the crested dinosaur and shrugged a shoulder. "You would be stuck with Crazy Bones?" he suggested.

"Fuck, no!" she nearly shouted, dropping her arm and glaring at him. She could swear she saw him give a half-smile.

Del crossed her arms over her chest and tried not to pout. "Can we at least camp somewhere else, tonight?" She was aware that the sun was going down, and curtain-falling darkness was not something she wanted to encounter the rapey old man in.

"No," he said, with finality. "He will not bother you."

"How do you know?"

Kasimir's hand slid off the shoulder of the dinosaur and he lifted it, staring at the implant in his arm. "I will kill him if he does."

The tone of his voice made it clear he was being absolutely serious. Del's eyes dropped to her feet, feeling a chill run down her spine even in the heat of the day. The air went still. Even the dinosaurs were quiet.

"Why do we need his help," she whispered, staring at the sand.

"Tribes come to this island for trade," he answered, dropping his arm. "We will find what we need."

"What do we need, then?" she asked, looking up.

He shook his head, moving away from the dinosaur. Del watched him walking back toward the stone house, silently. Then she realized he'd done it again.

"You don't tell me shit!" she called after him. "I'm getting really tired of this!"

Kasimir didn't reply, leaving her with the dinosaurs. Del grumbled under her breath, and plopped onto the ground, crossing her legs and staring at her arm. The interface only showed when she touched the implant, bringing up the same info as before. There was more than enough there to tell her what she needed...

Maybe. Her eyes moved across her inventory, landing on the purple diamond. Text listed it as "specimen implant". There was even a sample number, several digits long.

Specimen.

Del sat with her back to a rock, staring up at the tower in the sky. If... she thought about everything as if she were in a video game, it made sense. Well, some sense. Someone or something put her here. A multiplayer PvP game, where every tribe―every team―was out to get each other. But for what purpose?

 _Specimen._

Based on what little she knew about the other people on the island, it seemed like some kind of grand social experiment. She fixed her jaw, eyes locked on the tower. Something was up there, she just knew it. Something had tagged them like animals, releasing them onto the island. Analyzing their behavior, maybe. Keeping track of them.

Something was watching them being attacked by dinosaurs and struggle to find enough food, watching them hunt each other and not doing a damn thing about it.

The thought made her even more angry. Kasimir probably didn't think about this like she would, being from another time and place. Maybe he didn't even know what to think, but just kept surviving because dying wasn't an option. If he was―she didn't know for sure, but―if he had survived a concentration camp, it meant he'd gone from one bad situation to another. Was that all he knew?

She swallowed and closed her eyes. No matter what, he was the only person she'd met on the island who hadn't tried to hurt her. "Made the tribe," he'd said. If being in a tribe meant they had to watch out for each other, well―she would gladly do that, for him.

Some isolated thought in the back of her mind wondered how the two of them could ever hope to go up against a video game boss that was capable of using technology that could anchor massive towers in the sky, especially when they only had stone tools to work with.

But if this were a video game, that meant it had an ending. There was a way to "beat" the game, somehow.

They only had to learn to play.


	11. Exile

The Iron March.

Kasimir sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, staring into the darkness and listening carefully. The girl refused to sleep without his assurance that he would watch Crazy Bones. Didn't fault her for that. He'd earned his name for more than one reason.

Sitting in the dark without anything to keep him occupied, he felt the twitch of idle thoughts raking his brain. The girl, her arrival. She'd made his tribe, somehow. He tried to push his internal monologue away. Focused on something else.

His stomach ached. Hunger was an old friend, especially in the dark. Long ago, he'd learned to ignore the feeling until it gnawed at him. In those days, he would have eaten handfuls of dirt to stop the pain. This hunger was nothing, compared to that.

His skin crawled. Wading through the water earlier in the day left him half-cleaned. Needed to bathe. He'd not cleaned himself properly for months, well before the girl showed up on the beach. Always kept one eye on the water. The Piranhas, the sharks.

 _Mara._

Kasimir shifted his weight, a physical attempt to stop the thoughts. Replacing unwanted thoughts of the new with the old was not preferable. And he certainly didn't have the patience to handle thinking about _her._

Crazy Bones' snoring filtered through the air, occasional rattling sounding from his clothing while he slept. The girl slept like the dead, no matter if she were in a bed or on hard earth. That was not a good thing.

She'd made the tribe.

He'd been on the island for far too long to believe anyone could. Every newcomer awakened old arguments, arguments that he made every attempt to derail. He'd given up thinking he knew the truth, even actively forgetting what he'd learned. The girl had asked the same questions, had the same reaction to her newfound situation.

He'd been so sure she would go. When she told him she wouldn't, he didn't believe her. She pushed limits, trying to manipulate him. To make him talk, make him tell her what he wouldn't remember.

But she'd stayed. It was probably her youth that caused it. What made her arrival special, he didn't know. Why the tribe had been reborn, he couldn't say. Before, he'd spent too many days to count on the beach in his tiny hut. The days blurred together, only made distinct by the occasional arrival. Each of them had gone, joining Sailbacks or Woodsmen. Others ate of the berries and ran gibbering into the trees, never to be seen again.

One swam into the ocean, only to be devoured immediately by sharks. Kasimir put a hand to his arm and traced the scar lines across his skin. Memories wanted so badly to be remembered, but he refused them the opportunity.

None of those arrivals had made the tribe. None had stayed, even after he found his tongue to ask on the rare occasion he'd desired their companionship. The girl...

She made a slight whimpering noise. Kasimir turned his head to the noise. He felt the smile but didn't give into it, though no one would see. She was firmly lodged up his ass, no matter what. Had the good sense not to go off on her own unless she needed to, and she took to hunting very quickly. His aching knee told him not to complain about the tribe.

Couldn't get rid of her even if he wanted to, anymore than she could leave, anyway.

The tribe... His fingernails dug into his arm, painfully. The last tribe he'd been a part of was so long ago he hadn't bothered to keep track of the time. He closed his eyes and swallowed, trying to force the thoughts away.

Mara was somewhere out there. He tried not to imagine what she was doing, now. Could still picture her in his head, her face muddled but the striking red hair flying out behind her as she rode her beast into battle.

Mara wasn't afraid. Kasimir was. Not afraid of her, but afraid for her. She'd spoken strongly, made excellent decisions for her tribe. She'd hired him, kept him. The Shock took the west coast, sparring with Snow Children and Woodsmen for years. But...

Kasimir pried his hand off of his arm, feeling the sting where his nails had punctured the skin. No more, he told himself. Even after all this time, he still hurt―

"You'll make yourself ill," a voice cut into his thoughts.

Crazy Bones sat up in the darkness, making a noise that should have awakened the dead. The girl didn't even stir.

"She's still around," the old man added. "So you know."

Kasimir suppressed his sigh, staring out into the air. "I didn't want to know."

"You can't pretend she's gone, not forever," Crazy Bones said, as a grating sound was followed by the flare of fire into existence. Kasimir looked away, his eyes pained by the sudden light. Crazy Bones coughed, a short bark in the stillness. "Last I heard, the Shock were still patrolling the southeast."

Kasimir opened his eyes slightly, staring down at the mass of black hair covering the girl's face. She was curled onto her side, hands tucked into her chest and back to the wall.

"I'm surprised you didn't see them, where you were." Kasimir's head jerked up, staring over the campfire at Crazy Bones. The man shrugged a shoulder, rattling his decoration. "The Shock trade at Cragg's Island, sometimes. Would have swum all over the southwest."

Kasimir was aware that Crazy Bones knew his location. It was surprising, that the Shock hadn't been sighted from his camp along the beach. But maybe Mara was avoiding him just the same as he, her.

"You didn't trade that?" His eyes bore holes into the shining black eyes staring back at him.

"Nah." Crazy Bones coughed lightly. "No one wanted to know where you were. Not even Sailbacks. Beside..." Crazy Bones grinned at him from across the room. "Anyone who knew where you were, wasn't going to come looking, would they?" He began scrounging through a box near the fire.

That was true. Other than Crazy Bones, the only people who should know where he was were the arrivals on the beach. The majority of them would not only _not_ hear his name from the tribals, but be actively discouraged from mentioning him. He had only his own actions to thank for that.

It'd been surprising for him, when the Sailback man wanted him to fight for them. No one had bothered to find him, not since he'd been exiled. For twenty years he'd lived a very meaningless life, and though he was content with that he knew that it wasn't his choice.

If the Sailbacks needed him, again, something dire must be going on with the Unnamed tribe. No tribe on the island would consider reversing his exile otherwise.

Kasimir stared at his hands in his lap, remembering. Years upon years of crafting weapons for the tribes, switching allegiance frequently for fear of being killed by the previous. Every man and woman on the island should be clamoring for his blood and would have been, if not for―

He shook his head, removing the thought from his mind. Ancient history. His eyes moved away and to the left, looking at the girl again.

"What's her story?" Crazy Bones asked, through a mouthful of jerky.

"Don't know," Kasimir said. "Didn't ask."

"Huh," the old man grunted. "Smart enough to stick around, though."

Kasimir forced his smile down. He knew better than to show Crazy Bones any weakness.

"Much as I appreciate you visiting this lonely old man, you know you'll have to leave." A piece of meat flew through the air, landing squarely in Kasimir's lap. He retrieved the jerky, pulling a piece from the corner.

"I know," Kasimir said.

Crazy Bones grunted again. "Your own fault for being so persnickety," he muttered. "Finding out the truth, and not telling." Kasimir didn't rise to the jab, chewing on the jerky and feeling the ache in his stomach abate. "If you hadn't ticked off most of the island..." The old man snorted. "Walked out last man alive, and couldn't even arse yourself to say a word about it."

Kasimir kept his eyes on the girl's head. _"But what if that's the way out?"_ she'd said, her arm stretched out and pointing at the beacon. The look in her eyes, her resolute expression... reminded him of himself, when he came to the island.

No, there was no way out. He knew. There was only... he shook his head free of the thought.

Him being at the trading post would only keep others away. His exiled state would harm Crazy Bones' business, the rocky island a bartering site for many different tribes. Those who knew Kasimir would not take well to the old man harboring him, either. They _would_ have to leave.

But, as he thought about it... the two sent to capture him should not have done so. The Stalkers who came for him must have been paid, and paid well, by someone who was not on the island when he'd―by someone who was not on the island before his exile.

New survivors were added to the island all the time. Those who activated the beacons often never came back. Many tribes had been decimated by the fights at the beacons, being lost to the island forever. His people, too, had been reduced. By the final fight, there were only five left...

And after, there had only been one. Kasimir swallowed the jerky and turned to Crazy Bones. "We'll leave tomorrow," he said.

"She can stay," the old man said, grinning. "Kick her from your tribe, lemme have her."

Kasimir fought the urge to snap at the man. "I have enough enemies already."

"You're no fun, Heart-of-Iron." Crazy Bones settled himself in his bed again, hands behind his head. "Put the fire out, won't you?"

Kasimir agreed, and after a moment of shuffling the light went out one more. He sat back on his behind, eating small pieces of the jerky, and listened as the old man's breathing grew more shallow. Eventually the snoring resumed.

Kasimir was tired. He lowered his eyelids, staring out through a tiny window of skin. In times past, he'd learned how to get by on little sleep. Tonight would be no different.


	12. Shadows

His reflection in the metal chest plate was distorted, the features blurred into shadow-filled holes in his face as he cut his hair using a pair of scissors borrowed from Crazy Bones. He'd already trimmed his beard down, as much as possible. The metal showed him back a man he could barely recognize as himself.

For one long moment, he considered the reflection, scissors stilled in their effort to rid him of the grimy mop. It had been so long since he'd cut his hair, yet the length had remained at a rough shoulder level.

Just another perk of being on the Island, he supposed. His hands shook slightly as he resumed cutting.

"Here," the girl said, extending a hand to him. "I'll get the back."

He didn't meet her eyes. She'd edged closer and closer to him while he was trimming, shooting well-placed looks of antagony toward Crazy Bones. Kasimir could feel her knee bumping his every so often, as she shifted her weight from one side to the other.

Crazy Bones was threading together a bola in the corner, one glittering eye watching her. The suggesstive grin on his face had worn away into a faint and deliberate smile. Kasimir ignored the man as much as was possible, knowing the annoyance would be short-lived.

Still wasn't sure what to make of the girl. Her determination, shown frequently in her face and the actions she'd taken to retrieve him from the Stalkers, assured him that she was at least reliable. That was certainly something one looked for in a tribe mate.

"Kasimir, let me have the scissors," she prompted him, her voice mildly agitated.

He handed them over, staring into the shadowy depths of his reflection. The thought of having the Iron March under his control, brought to him more memories best left forgotten. Trying to imagine the girl being so capable, talented even, to do what he had done... was amusing, but ultimately seemed incredulous.

She stood up on her knees, gently tugging at his head as she moved closer. "How short?" she asked.

"All of it," he answered.

Kasimir could feel an immediate change in temperature, a chill running down his back. Dirty hair fell to the floor around him. He'd absolutely needed a haircut, if only because he'd been so lacking in hygiene.

She had short fingers and strong hands. He closed his eyes as she cropped it down to the skin, the coolness of the obsidian tool offset by the warmth of her skin. Having someone cut his hair for the first time in years... she didn't bother with nicety, either, pulling at his scalp with impunity.

It seemed such an intimate act. The girl had neither the patience nor the skill to give any illusion of that, destroying what she touched. She brushed a stray hair from his shoulder to the floor, scooted backward and studied his head, then nodded to herself. "I think that's it."

"Maybe you should cut my hair," Crazy Bones said, grinning at her.

"You don't have any hair _to_ cut," she muttered, glaring at him.

"Do my beard, then," the old man coaxed.

"Fuck off," she replied, succinctly.

Kasimir rubbed a hand over his scalp and chin, feeling for any rough bits, but was satisfied that the job was done. He turned to the girl, contemplating.

She'd had tied her own hair back with a strand of fiber. A thick shock of it hung down over one eye, unavoidably, but the amount of disgust she managed to squeeze into half her face was impressive.

The furious look on her face as she glared at Crazy Bones―who was attempting to feign wounded feelings―was enough to stir him into movement. They had to leave. The sooner they were away from the rocky shore, the sooner he could get answers, and the less likely that someone would find him there.

Stalkers didn't care who they killed in the pursuit of their targets. They would attack and kill anyone or anything, including the ex-RAF man's animals. Much as he and Crazy Bones "got on", Kasimir didn't think it was worth risking the man's ire in order to draw the mercenary tribals to a trap.

Their cautious truce was still only a truce. If it never evolved back into war, he would be satisfied.

Kasimir roused himself from the floor, wiping hair from his clothing, and took the scissors back from the girl. She turned her eyes onto him, and stifled a snorting noise. Ignoring her, he moved to his pack and withdrew the cooked meat he'd brought with them, tossing the lot to Crazy Bones.

"For your trouble," he said.

The old man's eyes lit up, but he grumbled under his breath and looked offended at the same time. "Get on with you lot," he shot back. "Coming in my home, insulting me. Go on."

Once outside, the girl made a beeline for her spitter. Kasimir hoisted his pack onto his back and scanned the nearby area, watchful as always.

It was a nice place, this outlet. It was protected from most of the rain by the rock shelf above, near to a shark-free source of water. For a moment, Kasimir remembered the hustle and bustle of the place, when time had been more kindly. All the tribes had been working together. The Iron March had been fifty-strong and growing, Mara leading the Shock at his side as they scoured watery caverns for artifacts.

He turned away with a sour heart. Remembering was not only painful, but also kept him trapped in the past. He'd let go of more than enough agony to hold onto.

"Wait!" Crazy Bones called out, scrambling over the rocks like he was part-lizard. Maybe he _was._ The sheer tenacity of the man had been proved time and time again, and the only reason he kept himself to himself as he did was due to his age.

Crazy Bones stopped about twenty feet short of them, crouching on all fours. "Kasimir." He made a salute to him, carefully. "Mind yourself out there."

Kasimir nodded back at the man. "Until we meet again, Duval."

The girl watched in silence, as Crazy Bones crawled back whence he'd come. "Why'd you give him all our food?" she asked, suddenly.

"Debt," he replied, and began walking away.

"Yeah, but now _we_ don't have any food," she pointed out, following. "We can't afford to make good on stuff like that."

"It can be replaced." Kasimir stopped at the water's edge, staring down into it.

"Not _this_ shit again," she muttered.

He sighed to himself.


	13. Hornet's Nest

They'd traveled along the beach when coming from the camp, but after leaving the trading post Kasimir pushed a little further into the trees. The girl didn't complain. In fact, she seemed relieved at the coolness of the tree cover.

Knowing what he did now, about the Shock... didn't seem safe to be on the open beach. He'd rather not go where the raptors were, but it was more acceptable than finding _her._

"Kasimir," the girl said, jabbing him in the lower back with the blunt end of her spear. "Kasimir! Pay attention!"

He raised an eyebrow at her. How to tell her it was better to be quiet? The creatures here had far better hearing than humans did, that was for certain.

"I asked where we were going," she said. "You can tell me that, at least."

He turned his gaze back onto the trees. "North. East."

"And what's, north, east," she shot back, "except for those big-ass towers and probably certain doom?"

That was one way to word it. Kasimir shook his head. _"I'll_ live," he answered.

"What?" She was quiet for a brief moment. Then she snapped, "Hey!"

He coughed and covered his mouth, hiding the smile. If she was anything, she was predictable. He gestured to the trees, putting a hand on his hip and forcing the amused look on his face to vanish. "Unnamed," he said, without looking back.

"But didn't they take out a whole 'nother tribe?" she asked, frowning and moving to the side to look up at him.

"Mm-hmm," he hummed.

"And isn't it incredibly stupid to stir up a hornet's nest?"

Kasimir's head jerked around, searching the trees for any sign of bees. Too late, he realized she'd used it as an idiom. Her face when he glanced back at her was annoyed but also concerned.

Well. Better safe rather than sorry. The last time he'd run into the bees, he'd been stung so many times he couldn't walk straight for a week. "The only way to know," he told her, "is to seek for yourself."

"Well, don't you know anyone who could tell us? I really don't want to walk all over creation just to get my ass handed to me on a silver platter by some unknown thing." She pouted, tucking her lower jaw up into her mouth.

"No," he answered. That wasn't the truth, but he didn't feel ready or able to sneak around the coast. Not with her following him and running her mouth like an express train, never stopping but for water breaks. If they went east after travelling north, there was no chance of them running into the Shock.

He didn't know if Willow Tree and his crew were still on the east coast, at any rate. Crazy Bones didn't keep track of the Runners, or the movements of Sailbacks for that matter. The island had changed, and he was out of his element again.

Just like the girl, only he knew what the hell he was doing. Mostly.

He started walking again, heading north into the trees.

* * *

"Ow!" the girl hissed. She lifted her hatchet and struck at something, making an odd clinking noise as she thrashed it about her feet. _"Shit! Ow!"_

Kasimir lifted his spear, looking for the foe. Ants. One of his least favorite creatures on the island, but not a terrible threat so long as they were eliminated swiftly. He turned and jabbed into the undergrowth, impaling the insects.

The girl caught on quickly enough, jumping to the side and sweeping them away with her own weapon. The danger passed, and Kasimir crushed the insects with his hatchet, collecting their bounty.

No meat to be had, this time. The exoskeletons of the ants were tough but thin frames of chitin, something he knew would be valued by anyone they happened to run across. He moved this to his pack and looked around for any other danger before motioning the girl to follow him north into the forest.

A few minutes passed. "Can we stop," the girl asked, breathlessly. When he shot her a glance, her face was flushed and sweat stuck to her skin. Probably had been poisoned by the ants. He nodded, and pointed to a large rock.

She climbed the rock and fell into a heap at the top, breathing heavily. "I feel like shit," she muttered.

He knew the feeling. It would disappear in a few more minutes, regardless of any platitudes he made. Kasimir chose to survey the forest, instead. There were threats bigger than dog-sized ants out there.

"Uh... Kasimir? Are these things _dangerous?"_ the girl asked, her voice tight in her throat. Kasimir's head snapped to the side, looking over the moss-covered surface of the rock to her.

A compy was staring at her, tilting its head from side to side and chirping. The spitter regarded it with a mild look of curiosity, but made no effort to attack it. The tiny dinosaur ignored the other and focused its attention on the girl, following her as she scooted away from it across the rock.

"Not usually," he said. Some tribes used the creatures as an early warning system, but if that were the case they would have seen more than one. The yellow and brown dinosaur didn't seem aggressive, but followed as the girl attempted to back away from it again.

Footsteps through the trees sharpened his wit. A small head attached to a long neck swung out, followed by an enormous body and flat feet that shook the ground as it passed. One of Crazy Bones' so-loved long necks, walking through the trees. The relatively peaceful creatures were little threat unless something spooked them.

This one was definitely spooked, though whether it was from their presence or another creature he couldn't say. It grunted in alarm, turning itself to the side as rapidly as its girth allowed.

"Get down!" he yelled, flattening himself to the top of the rock. The girl looked up and made a startled noise.

The whip-tail came flying through the trees, knocking over the smallest ones, and impacted the girl's upper body with a resounding slap, sending her flying over the edge and into the brush about forty feet away. Scaly skin brushed over his back, tugging at his clothes, but missed him otherwise.

Kasimir swore to himself. Should have warned her better about the plant-eaters, the long necks and and three-horns. As it was, he would have to draw the whip-tail away before he could go looking through the brush for her.

The compy darted off through the bushes, following the spitter. The spitter should keep her relatively safe, though it couldn't hope to hold its own against a pack of raptors―even one raptor, really. Kasimir felt the swirling air and rolled onto the ground, letting the tail pass over once more.

He got up and moved off north, staying just far enough away to keep the whip-tail moving.


	14. Sheba

_"Sheba!"_ came a voice through the underbrush. "Sheba, ya little git, where the hell are ya?"

The compy turned her head to the sound, recognizing the call of her master. She peeped at the injured figure in front of her. Hands twitched and a sharp, short cough ejected a mouthful of dust into the air as the person stirred.

Jake Ashley's hand came out and grabbed the compy by the neck, picking her up and bringing the gold-colored dinosaur to his face. "Caught you," he said, grinning widely. "Thought you'd get away this time, did ya?"

Sheba peeped indignantly at the man, ducking her head back and curling her neck against his fingers. "Don't give me that lip," Jake spat at her. "What're ya even out here for? Get yerself eaten by the bigs."

Sheba made an repetitive trilling noise and turned her head away from him, rubbing her cheek against his index finger. Jake rolled his eyes and brought her closer to his body, allowing the compy to crawl up onto his shoulder and situate herself on his back. He lifted a finger to point at her accusingly, jerking it back when she nipped out at him. "Hey! What'd I say? Eh?"

Sheba rubbed her cheek on his neck, her head down. "Ah, ya know I can't stay mad at ya," Jake laughed, patting her back softly. "Now, what's this horseshit?"

He looked the body over, making mental notes. Female, very young, thin clothing, no weapon in sight. She was just now coming back to the waking world, looking like she'd been hit with a frozen tuna. Big red and purple mark in a tapered line up her right side. She was cute, in a native sort of way.

Nearby a dilo was bobbing its head in the ignorant way they did, making soft trilling noises. It had a pack strapped across its back, weighing its body down.

Jake snorted. Never saw anyone use a dilo for pack mule. He looked out at the trees, holding his hand up near Sheba and pulling his crossbow out with the other. "Whoever ya belon' to..." he slid his finger over the trigger. "Better say now."

The young woman coughed again, and mumbled something. "Eh?" Jake poked her with the crossbow. "C'mon now."

She mumbled again. The words slurred together, but it sounded a name he wasn't familiar with. She had a concussion. Needed a safe place to rest and get doctored.

Lucky for her, he had the solution.

"Right, get up. Slowly." Jake watched her push herself from the ground in a haze. "Hands out," he ordered, hooking his crossbow back onto his belt. He wrapped rope around her wrists, securely tying them together. "I don't like tyin' people up, but I ain't gettin' stabbed in the back 'gain," he muttered.

The woman blinked big ole doe eyes at him but she was really looking right through him. Hazy-faced. Jake tugged on the rope around her wrists, leading her into the brush as gracefully as he could.

The guard post was well-hidden in the trees, set apart from the rest of Woodsmen territory by a swath of Sailback-claimed land. Sheba hopped down from his shoulder as they approached the gate, chirping up at the wall that encompassed the building, running from side to side in front of him.

"Goose-hunt, Sheba," Jake told her, and watched the compy dart off into the brush. He followed the track up toward the gate, and looked back to the woman.

She held her neck up loosely, eyes pinned to her wrists. Every so often her upper body lurched in a dry heave, her head flopping limply with the effort. Jake was sure she felt miserable. The dilo followed obediently.

Goose and Cocha were waiting at the gate, throwing open the door as he approached. Eyes watched him from the mating pen just inside the wall, a short burst of trills silenced by Cocha's shrill whistle. Jake led the woman into the post, barring entry to her dilo and handing the rope lead off to Goose.

"What did you do now, Ashley?" the Hispanic man asked, eyeing the woman with suspicion.

"Honest, found her that way," he replied. "Sheba!"

The compy poked her head up from a nearby chair, peeping loudly. Jake grinned. "Good. Stay, Sheba. I'm not goin' out for ya again."

Sheba made another indignant noise, ducking behind the back of the chair. Jake turned to Goose. "Prolly got slapped by the diplo runnin' around."

Goose raised an eyebrow, glancing at Jake, but sighed. "Come on," he said, leading the girl into the back of the one-room building.

Cocha whistled at Sheba, running a hand over the compy's back, and looked up at Ashley. "Who?" she asked, tacitly.

"Eggs scrambled. She couldn't say." Jake gave Sheba a scathing look, and grinned at the dinosaur when she turned her head up and away from him. "This one was followin' her. No one in sight, though."

Cocha clucked her tongue and carried Sheba through the door leading to the mating pen. Jake lifted his crossbow onto the table, then pulled the chair out and dropped himself into it.

Wasn't worried. The girl couldn't be Sailback, she didn't stink of fish. She wasn't Stalker―she didn't have any weapons―or Woodsmen, he'd know if she was.

The others―the tribe that rousted the Sailbacks after their attack on the Woodsmen―were holding the swamps better than the Woodsmen ever could. When they came, they came in the open. Firing their guns and riding carnos, fleets of raptors with 'em. Weren't the type for subtlety, those ones.

The woman didn't _feel_ the same. His eyelids grew heavy. Could be a reject from the Runners. Runners had them high morals, so tightly wound they'd cut off their own hand iffen they caught it making a bad sign. He snorted to himself. That was probably it. She felt like naïve, to him.

Jake yawned, crossing his arms, and let his chin sink to his chest. Deal with her when she came to, he thought.


	15. Woodsmen

The whip-tail didn't give up the chase for another hundred yards or so. Kasimir lost it in the trees then, doubling back. He passed the rock where they'd rested, and continued into the undergrowth.

The air was hot, making his shirt stick to him. Very much needed to bathe. At least his hair wouldn't smell of sweat.

Footsteps. He lifted his spear, crouching to the ground and edging toward a tree. His foot butted against something, blocking his movement. He glanced down at the obstruction. Eyes stared up at him, brows drawing together over a face wrap.

Kasimir bolted upright, immediately attempting to move away from the person. Woodsmen. Damned sneaky bastards!

The other one caught him as he stood, bashing him in the hand and breaking at least two fingers. He dropped his spear, swearing out loud as the man wrapped his forearms under his shoulders and pinned his arms above him. Kasimir threw his head backward, kicking at the man in the ghillie suit as he rose from the ground―but the blows never landed, his legs expertly taken out from underneath him with precise leverage as he was pushed down.

The ghillie suit worked quickly to tie him down, tightening rope painfully onto his hands and forearms. The other sat on his lower back, pinning his legs together with his knees, and two hands were on the nape of his neck, squeezing slowly. Kasimir began to see bright spots in his vision―

He blamed himself for the predicament. Because he was distracted by the whip-tail, he'd not thought about the human danger. A raptor could chase you for miles without getting tired, but it lacked fingers with which to trap, capture, and kill.

"I won't fight," he choked out, face down in the dirt. "I won't fight―"

The two men secured his legs the same as his arms, pinning them together from the knees down. The one atop him stood and lifted his legs, the ghillie suit his arms, and began moving.

Kasimir knew how the situation would end. If they didn't kill him at the start, they would take him to whoever was in charge as a trophy. Once they figured out who he was, they'd dump him down a cliff or into a river, and leave him for the dinosaurs or piranhas.

He closed his eyes against the lurching movement and breathed out slowly through his nose.

* * *

Their camp was a small building surrounded by dirt-encrusted wooden walls, moss and other plants growing so densely into the cracks that it gave the appearance of a hillside. A tree or two was rooted into the roof of the building, roots dangling overhead.

Woodsmen always had been the masters of stealth. His talents had helped and hurt them, same as everyone else on the island, outfitting their snipers with serious hardware and giving them a definitive advantage in the redwood forest that they called home. It wasn't the same when they'd ventured away from home. Snipers were picked out of the trees by the sailbacks, or knocked down by Snow Children and their mammoths. Each tribe had a talent for _something._

Any weapon he'd made was gone, by now. Nothing lasted forever on the island. Tribes included.

Kasimir wondered, as he was hauled into the camp, if his talent had been never choosing a side. In the end, he'd refused to remember the Iron March, to tell others what had happened to them. He couldn't even stay on his own side.

"What in Sam Hill?" A clatter from the front of him, two feet hitting a wooden floor. "Who the hell is that?"

Kasimir sighed out through his nose. Of all the Woodsmen he could have been brought to―

"As I live and breathe," Jake Ashley said, as the men dropped Kasimir to the floor. "Old Heart-of-Iron, alive and..." he grinned, the insidiously familiar sight sickening Kasimir. "Not really kickin', are ya?"

Kasimir stared at the former bandit, saying nothing. Jake chuckled to himself, grabbing a crossbow from the table and loading it.

"Ya know, I always thought iffen I sore ya again, I'd nail ya to a tree." He placed the crossbow tip directly against Kasimir's chest, staring him directly in the eyes. Kasimir kept his face even and gaze firm on the man. "Wouldn't it be fun?"

"Ashley," someone said, catching his attention from the back of the room. Ashley turned his head but didn't budge the bolt. "This one is probably his tribe mate."

Kasimir's eyes focused on the back corner, seeing a brown-skinned man gesturing to― _damn it._ The girl was sitting in a chair, her hands bound and head lowered. She looked terrible, a bruise forming under the exposed skin on her right side. Her movements were slow and eyes bleary.

What he'd expected to find on the forest floor. Instead she'd been caught by the last few Woodsmen in existence: His old foe, Jake Ashley, and a crew of presumably similar ne'er-do-wells. Jake's survival was practically guaranteed, if he had tribe mates. The man oozed charisma _and_ toughness, only one of which Kasimir could even hope to match.

He closed his eyes and stilled himself, relaxing his muscles. If he struggled too hard, he wouldn't be able to fight when he needed to. His knee began to ache again, a dull pain pulsing against the rope binding his legs together.

Not that he really wanted to fight. Memories swirled in his head, unwelcome visitors. Again, his own fault. Again, coming back to haunt him.

If the Stalkers had never shown, he wouldn't have to seek out answers or risk everything to find out what was going on. His being here was inevitable.

Jake swung his head back around to Kasimir. "That's true?" he asked, pressing the bolt into his skin. "Ya made a friend?"

Kasimir lifted his arms slightly, flicking his eyes to the implant in his arm. Jake rolled his eyes, grabbing at the arm and moving rope aside to depress the center. "The Iron March? You funnin' me?!" he sputtered out, laughing hysterically.

The man in the corner confirmed their association in a similar manner. He turned to the Woodsmen leader, frowning deeply.

"How many are ya?" Jake demanded, putting a foot onto Kasimir's stomach and leaning over him, pushing the crossbow into his chest and breaking the skin. Blood pooled around the wound, bloodying the tip of the bolt.

"Only two," he replied.

"Why's the Iron March back, after so lon', huh?"

The men stared at each other for a time, neither saying a word. Kasimir kept his eyes on Jake's, returning his aggravated glare with a patient and tired one. In the corner, the girl rose from her seat and lurched toward the men. The brown-skinned man protested, but she waved him off.

"I don't... understand what goes on around here," the girl began, her voice slightly slurred, "but I know this isn't right." She lifted one hand and placed it on Jake's shoulder, unsteadily. Kasimir didn't move his gaze but watched her out of the corner of his eyes. Part of him wished she hadn't said anything. Nothing she could do would give them any relief, now.

The girl's hand squeezed Jake's shoulder, the man turning his eyes away from Kasimir and to the touch. With her left hand, she drew a gun from inside her shirt and aimed it onto his temple. The barrel pressed into his skin, denting it. Kasimir heard the clicking of the hammer in the suddenly silent room.

"You're gonna wanna hold real still," the girl said, her voice serious. "I'm still kinda out of it."

Jake breathed in sharply at the application of the gun to his head, then grinned. He looked back to Kasimir and winked, and laughed under his breath. "Guess I got a little 'head of myself," he muttered. "Alright, babe, what ya want here?"

"Drop it," she said. She wavered, her whole body wobbling back and forth.

Jake dropped the crossbow, raising his hands in surrender. "Got lots of beef with people, babe. I'm still around, but they ain't. Ya sure ya want to go 'bout it like this?"

"Yes," the girl said, taking a step to the right. She nodded at the Woodsmen in the ghillie suit. "Untie him."

Kasimir felt the blood returning to his fingers, a prickling sensation flaring as fire flushed through his legs and arms. He righted himself, standing at his full height in front of Jake Ashley. The man looked up at him with a rueful expression, hands up and fingers curling into his palms slowly.

"She's a little too much," Jake told him. "I like her."

Kasimir's hands contorted into fists. He stared the man down. Jake's grin grew, filling his face with an unbelieving and sheepish look. The girl swayed from side to side, blinking slowly. Her eyes shot up to his, hands beginning to tremble.

Now was the moment he needed to react, he knew. So many years before, he would have attacked the man the minute he was freed. The shame of the past stopped him, now, but with that time came the experience to handle the situation in a... more reasonable way.

"This how it's gonna be, Heart-of-Iron? Ya new moll kickin' ass and takin' no shit?"

Kasimir grabbed Jake by the front of his shirt, as the girl's arm lowered in her weakened state. He pulled the man to him, pressing his forehead into his, and swallowed the dryness in his throat. "I can't control her any more than you, your mouth," he muttered, lowly. "Best you understand that."

Jake cackled at him. "Ya know I love ya, man," he spat, saliva spraying onto Kasimir's face. "How's Mara feel about this?"

Kasimir narrowed his eyes at the man, his lips curling up and hand tightening on his hide shirt. The girl lifted the gun and aimed it at the others in the room, her face shining with sweat.

"Everyone stand down," Jake said, finally. "We got enough trouble without pissin' off old enemies."

Kasimir didn't feel relieved. But it was at least a fraction better than what it could have been. What it would have been. He loosed Jake and looked over at the girl, her hands trembling on the gun and eyes shifting loosely from side to side.

"Put it away," he murmured, moving closer.

She breathed out in a rush of warm air, lowering the gun to her side and looking up at him. "Sorry about that," she answered.

Kasimir patted her shoulder and faced down the Woodsmen, a collection of four faces staring at the two of them, some in confusion and some in concern. The brown-skinned man spoke up first, catching everyone off guard.

"If we're all done with threatening each other's lives, why don't we sit down and eat?" he suggested, his tone matter-of-fact.


	16. Lion's Den

"The last time a broad put a gun to my head..." Jake grinned at him, his brown eyes lit up with excitement. "Well―"

"Jake," Kasimir interrupted, a thinly veiled threat in his tone. The less he had to hear from the troublesome Woodsman, the better.

"I ain't one for forgettin', is all." The man put his boots up onto the edge of the table and leaned back in his chair. "How's the beach, by the way? Heard ya took a vacation."

Kasimir stared at him. It was becoming clear that the majority of the island had known where he was, but left him be. That made his idea of tracking down whoever had hired the Stalkers, much harder. He debated his options silently, watching Jake's face erupt into a grin.

Did the man _never_ stop smiling? He remembered the last time he'd seen him, walking drunkenly through flames at the camp. The trees at the base of the volcano had caught fire and the Woodsman's laughter rang out through the chaos of that night as if he dared the lava to burn him.

"Iffen ya ain't gonna talk, maybe I'll just ask the lady," Jake said, obnoxiously.

"No, you won't," Kasimir replied, in a low voice.

"Ya gonna stop me?" Jake's face turned to one of curiosity. "Never did before. _Mara_ always-"

"Jake," Kasimir repeated, more blatantly.

Jake's mouth snapped shut. He stared at Kasimir for a long minute, his grin slowly disappearing. In its place was a more sympathetic expression, an understanding one. Kasimir wasn't sure if he enjoyed the replacement.

Jake nodded, deliberately. "I get ya. Broads." He made a dismissive noise and waved his hand around. "Trustin' a female is what got me in this hell."

Kasimir didn't care one way or the other what had happened in the man's past. He'd heard secondhand, something about living in a swamp―no surprise _there_ ―and running boats full of whiskey. The man was a nuisance long before he'd ever arrived on the island.

Wasn't that much different from Kasimir's past, though the type of illicit goods they'd smuggled and sold had affected the public very differently. Kasimir shifted in his seat, uncomfortably. He had no more want to think of it, and even less for his time on the Earth proper.

"Ya gotta give me somethin', though." Jake coughed, the disgusting noise sounding through the small room. "What's her name? Won't be callin' this one same as did Mara―" the grin was back, now "―well, it wouldn't do, s'all."

Kasimir's chest ached. Mara had earned her fair share of nicknames from others, as had he. Most were... unpleasant. But―he groaned inwardly. He'd forgotten the girl's name. She'd mentioned it the first night on the beach, and he hadn't bothered to set it in stone. Thought she would leave. Saw no reason _to_ remember.

"..." He opened and closed his mouth, for lack of something to say.

"Damn," Jake swore, his face twisting up into another grin. "I'd say this one makes ya dizzy!"

Kasimir stared into the air, trying to remember what the implant had said, back at the trading post. He admitted defeat when Jake began complaining, again, about not getting his "fair share of the take".

"Iffen ya think I'll let ya in my home again―"

"Soul-of-Iron," he spat at the man, if anything to get him to shut up.

Jake gave him a look of utter disbelief, then burst into laughter. "Ya goofy!" he managed, through his guffaws. "Oh, God, if _ever!"_

Kasimir didn't grace him with a reply. Jake wore himself out, dwindling into small titters, before sighing and rubbing his face. "So what ya doin' here? This ain't no _social_ visit."

"No," Kasimir agreed. He stared at the tabletop, wondering why he'd bothered coming off the beach―other than the threat of Stalkers, who wouldn't give up no matter where he went, he'd really had no reason. To find who hired them, deal with the issue, and get the bounty off his head? It seemed foolish. Stupid of him to risk it, to risk losing everything and nothing all at once. And now...

He'd removed the cover he'd thought he had, and ultimately regretted it. Maybe that was why he'd let the Stalkers have an advantage over him, before. Walked into their trap because he knew they'd never stop coming, and he didn't have the heart to fight anymore.

"This is a new one on me," Jake muttered. "So moody. That the girl's doin'?" His hand jerked up and gestured to her, sitting in the corner with the doctor and staring at the two of them blearily.

"We haven't had a conversation in years," Kasimir pointed out. "Long time to change."

"True that," Jake replied. He was quiet for a long minute, then nodded to himself. "Right." He dropped his feet to the floor with a thud. "Here's the deal, old man. Ya tell me what roused ya from the beach. I'll drop the horseshit 'bout the past."

That felt a reasonable enough request, which made Kasimir suspicious. Jake only stared back at him with an innocent-looking smile.

Eventually, Kasimir relented. "Stalkers," he said, in a low voice. "Looking for me."

Jake suppressed a snortling guffaw. "What!" he almost shouted, holding his sides in an effort not to laugh. "Who'd want _ya_ snatched?"

Kasimir regarded him with a patient look. "Someone who wasn't here," he replied.

Jake's smile faded abruptly. "Shit," he said, shaking his head. "I might could know, then."

"I came off of the beach because someone wants me captured," Kasimir told him. "Everyone knew where I was but for that someone."

The ex-smuggler breathed out, loudly, grabbing a mug of beer from the tabletop and taking a drink before replying. "I didn't have time to take names, ya know? We thought we saw 'em comin'. Watchin' east for Sailback, watchin' north for the wolves. Saw this new tribe walkin' 'bout like Sunday shoes, all prettied up, kept our eyes open. Ya know it weren't easy to see everywhere at once."

Kasimir nodded. Confirmed what Crazy Bones had said.

"Sailbacks came at us, full speed, yeah? But from the _north_. Had these assholes behind them, ridin' carnos and trailin' raptors. Never knew what hit us. Grabbed up all the people I could convince to leave and ran here, hid in the trees. Like we was supposed to." Jake looked angrily over the table at him. "Couldn't fight 'em. They was wearin' iron, and all we had was stone."

Kasimir groaned, inwardly. Suddenly, everything made _sense_ to him. And that _was not a good thing._

"Whoever they are, they don't play around." Jake looked moodily into his mug. "Killed half the tribe before we had time to fight back. Lost Célise to 'em. God only knows where she is now."

Kasimir knew the Woodsmen leader was a downright unpleasant woman but he'd never begrudged her her temper. In all the time he'd spent arguing with tribe leaders, Célise was the one who'd kept the peace. Hers had been the voice of reason in the end, declaring the exile, making sure he was given time to reconsider his decision not to speak about what had happened in the volcano cave.

"What's the plan, Heart-of-Iron?" Jake was studying him now, eyes hooded over his mug. "Where ya goin'?"

Kasimir shot the girl a glance, then crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. The gun that she'd recovered came to mind again. The past, his actions, all of it came rushing back.

He hadn't actually had a plan other than to meander about the island, avoiding the tribes and dangers as best he could and find out what was going on. Maybe he'd thought, somewhere in his unconscious brain, that he would retake the Eagle Gate. Since the Iron March was back again and this new tribe was destroying everything in its path, having a permanent and well-fortified place to live would be nice.

It would be _extremely_ ill-advised, though. Eagle Gate was set dead in the middle of the unnamed tribe's new territory. No way in hell was it sitting untouched.

And it explained the guns, very precisely: They must have found his blueprints, all the leftover material he'd never gone back to claim, and his equipment. He'd thought the fortress was safe, hidden so far up into the trees and rocks. What had been left behind was less than enough to outfit an army, but was enough to cause massive chaos.

 _...Damn it_ , he thought. At least the bastards hadn't entered the beacons, yet. Based on their movements, they seemed to be making a determined effort to reach the green one. If they were deadly now, with his vast array of armaments behind them... they would be _devastating_ once they had access to Tek.

"Ya thinkin' east?" Jake set his mug down, the sound startling Kasimir from his thoughts. "Willow Tree and the Runners? Ya know they won't help."

"No." Kasimir rubbed his nose, staring at the table top. "But there's no other choice," he added, to himself.

"Is, too!" Jake snapped. "Them bluenoses won't help. Why would they? All that convert or kill nonsense, shit what lost us battles back in the day."

Kasimir sighed to himself. It was true that the Runners had a special moral code―one that, while admirable in some ways, was utterly impossible to maintain. And it was also true that their attitude toward others on the Island afforded them superior protection. Willow Tree wasn't stupid, no matter how capricious his favor seemed.

They had the land to build and grow, and the people to maintain it. It was in a class of its own, their Christian values.

"Lost my best gunner to those shit-heads," Jake muttered. "I miss that Pashtun asshole."

Kasimir looked up at Jake and ran a hand over his head, scratching at his scalp. "There isn't a choice. I need equipment."

The Woodsman snorted, leaning an elbow onto the edge of the table. "Ya know what I think?"

"I wasn't aware you _did_ ," Kasimir replied, dryly.

"Smart ass." Jake rolled his eyes at him. "Look, old man, all ya gear is gone by now. Iffen not Runners broke it, then Mara took it. She's hidin' real good out there at sea, keepin' her nose clean. I ain't like to trust the bitch."

Kasimir agreed, but didn't acknowledge that. "And your point is?"

"Iffen ya gonna go fuckin' 'round the Runners, ya need a fall-back. Ya need to talk to the Shock."

Kasimir let out a loud and derisive laugh, dismissing the man's words instantly. The others in the small room looked up sharply, including the girl. Her eyes, when they briefly met his, were confused. Jake added nothing, only laid his hands out in a shrug and sat backward in his chair.

"Ignoring that Mara will skin me alive and wear my hide no matter _what_ I say to her," Kasimir said, "what makes you think that she would offer help?"

"You didn't hear?" Jake leaned backward again. "Shock got themselves a brand new enemy, too. Sunday shoes decided to take it to them about a week ago. I wouldn't be surprised iffen they was already large and in charge of Cragg's."

Kasimir hissed a swear under his breath and closed his eyes.

So that was it, then.

He'd have to walk into the lion's den, once more.


	17. Sammon

They'd made the most of their time on the Island.

From the moment they'd arrived, until more recently when Fortune had graciously laid her hand upon them, their existence was fraught with danger. What brought the men to this hellish otherworld was unknown, but it was evident they must survive.

In the northeast, the men had scoured the land and killed everything that moved. Unforgiving and cruel, the onslaught that came after was not expected. The men grew more confident as they understood that their primitive weapons, used by brothers in arms, would bring down even the tallest foe.

But that was only the beginning of their trials.

First contact with people of the Island had been with a devil bitch of flaming red hair, piloting monsters in the deep far beyond their reach. Her creatures were strong, her weapons stronger. The men withdrew and moved inland, mapping the land with precision and care. The land provided some respite for them, but they required permanence; shelter and production of ammunition were a must.

They came upon what seemed a blessing from the gods.

A home of impenetrable iron, pieced together impossibly, amidst the rocks and trees of a great valley. Within, a treasure trove of invention. Cannons that shot flaming metal, armor of a hardness never seen before. Elaborate smithies and a table that promised nothing short of alchemy were at their touch.

Armed with these weapons, there wouldn't be opposition. The men to work, Sammon moved swiftly and silently through the trees on scouting missions. While his brothers bunked in doubled beds, he slept in grass and hidden in rocks. He came across the men of the river, their movements too loud to ignore.

Other beasts of the Island were just as dangerous as theirs. But the men of the river were easily fooled, joining their side when Sammon spoke obliquely and impressed upon them deference to their ways. The men learned to calm creatures, mastering vicious teeth and ripping claws. The guns of their refuge now tempered with muscle-bound beasts obeying their every command, the men marched onto those who so called themselves Woodsmen.

The assault in the swamp was difficult. Sammon advised the men that he who condemned himself to a name, knew nothing: They had not named themselves, after all. No name would be earned until all the peoples of the Island were joined as one.

Betrayal was easy, bearing that thought in mind.

Sammon sat, with his back to a tree, his gaze fixed firmly on the tower in the sky ahead of him. A ledge of solid rock rose beneath him, below it the milling and thunderous footsteps of their beasts echoing. Should he choose to glance down he would see the men at work, felling red-barked giants and stripping flesh from bones.

The people of the swamp were now his. What few remained, he could not say. They would be found, assimilated, and trained. All had gone according to this simple plan.

But it wasn't good enough.

Sammon curled his feet beneath himself and closed his eyes to the sight of the tower. With the refuge, he had found history. A detailed account, the peoples of the Island and their habits laid bare to his keen eyes. He who had written it, no name was given. No name was needed.

Those who knew themselves as Sailback were entrenched along the river, small huts carrying each "family" safely through the night. Would that they were not made of stone, Sammon should order them burnt. He would need to plan carefully, to remove them from their damp cottages.

The morning after claiming the swamp, he'd read of the devil bitch again. She was viewed with much respect by the author, but a notable amount of fear was still present. Sammon knew this fear. Now that he and his men were imprisoned on the Island, he'd held the same that they would not live out the day.

The woman Mara was a formidable opponent and Sammon would see her by his side in battle before the end of their campaign. Had she not unleashed her cannons upon his men, reducing their number, he would brave the shark-infested waters to claim her himself.

Sammon felt kindred to the man, as he perused such glorious notes as had been kept. He opened his eyes to the tower once more, and recalled what was written. Of the battle that ensued, a monster so large it called the sharp-teethed beasts ants.

Three towers. Three battles. The numbers of the dead rose to unimagined proportions. Each one to fall, the author recorded their name in his book. As it should be, Sammon knew. As they'd prepared to scale the volcano, there were only nine men left.

Nothing written, then, once the final battle was made. When the people looked to the volcano and sought within it, answers. Blank pages, the edges browned with flame. The man was not dead; though he only knew this by rumor and rank belligerence.

Sammon wondered what had befallen the ones he paid to find the author. All those of the tribes who were taken into his men did not speak of the man, as he'd learned. An exile on the island, whose name was not spoken. Whose end could not be found.

Everything he had done, Sammon would do. He must find the man. He must learn from him the secret of the towers.


	18. Too Friendly

"We gotta do somethin' with yer dilo," Jake said, chewing on a piece of wood and staring down the spitter. "Gets on with Sheba like a house on fire. But can't have him sittin' out here, alone."

The spitter was standing passively near to Sheba, staring at her without any flicker of thought in its eyes. In contrast, Sheba's eyes were lit up with curiosity; her body body language and her soft peeping at the creature indicated she was excited. It reminded Del of puppies.

Her head was still pounding, half her body sore and marked up from the encounter with the whip-tail. Diplodocus. She was still processing that creatures so large could exist in conjunction with something as tiny as the compy.

Sheba was chirruping at her, head turned and black eyes staring almost judgmentally at her. Jake took the pick from his mouth and hissed at her, shooing her away from them without nicety. _"Get,_ ya little―" he muttered.

Sheba moved away indignantly, holding her tail up and stalking off as if she'd meant to leave anyway. Jake watched her with a mildly amused expression.

"Dilo got a name?" he asked Del, looking back.

"Uh," she said, swallowing a lump in her throat. "No, I hadn't... I didn't think of one."

"Every good beast needs a name." Jake put a hand out, rubbing the frills along its head.

Del couldn't really think of anything off the top of her head, but she did remember some children's show from way back when... she coughed and cleared her throat. "Barney?" she asked, thinking it would almost be funny if it wasn't a real dinosaur and this whole island some fucked-up extraterrestrial experiment.

"Had a coon hound named Barney. He was a good'un." Jake grinned, large canine teeth showing in his wide mouth. "Best guard dog ya'd ever want for, when the cops came lookin'."

Del took a long look at the Woodsman. Jake Ashley was a wiry guy, not very tall, brown eyed and haired. He walked like the tiny Italian guys at her high school, like he was always looking for a fight or something. The only other thing she could tell about him was that he was American, but he used so many slang terms she couldn't pin him down for a time.

"Georgia?" she asked, carefully.

"Naw, Florida." Jake turned his ever smiling face onto hers. "Pa was a trapper, out in the Everglades. Taught me everythin' I know."

"Ah," she said,

The other Woodsmen were equally mysterious. Goose, the doctor, was a heavyset Hispanic man with stubby fingers. He'd already volunteered to her he was from L.A. but she didn't know when yet. Cocha, the lone female, reminded Del of the pictures she'd found when researching Inca mummies for history class. She had intricately braided and beautiful black hair, and stared at her with a cold look on her face.

The other two were introduced as Kim and Louis but didn't bother with any form of polite greeting, instead choosing to ignore their visitors. Del was slightly relieved by that.

"Do ya know what I always imagined I'd do?" Jake said, his hand moving to the other side of the dilo's head. "When I finally got the upper hand on old Heart-of-Iron?"

"You mentioned something about nailing him to a tree," Del said, suspiciously. She'd not liked that his initial aggression had turned so quickly to friendliness. Kasimir hadn't said a word about it to her, only stared into the air and looked worried about something he probably wouldn't have talked to her about anyway.

He and Goose were out on guard duty, as Jake said, "on account of almost gettin' me shot," and because the ruckus that happened might have attracted some unwanted attention. Del had been invited to "stable" her dilo in the compy pen.

"Not as easy as it looks," Jake muttered, dropping his hand and then jerking it back up. Sheba stared up at him, her mouth open slightly as if grinning at him mischievously. "One more time, Sheba, and ya'll be _out the door!_ "

The man and compy stared each other down, like a cat and a mouse, only Del suspected the cat was the compy and Jake really enjoyed her antics. It was obvious that the compy was smarter than her dilo, though how much smarter Del couldn't say.

Sheba moved toward her, rubbing on her leg just like a cat might, and shot a look back at the man.

"Don't ya involve _her_ now!" Jake whined, rolling his eyes. "Don't ya let her use ya like that, she's more shameless than a fox in a hen house."

"Sheba," Del said, looking down at the creature. Sheba cocked her head and stared up at her, clicking curiously. "Show Barney where the food is, will you?"

The compy bobbed up and down, and made a series of noises at the dilo. It growled lightly, and the both of them disappeared around the corner of a wall.

"She's a good sort," Jake said, almost proudly. Del agreed. The tiny golden compy had more personality than some people she had known.

She wished she hadn't thought that. It was still painful to imagine that she'd never see any of her family or friends, ever again. And equally painful to know she would have to rely on people like Jake, rather than people she _could_ trust.

"Naw, what I figured I'd do was tie 'im down and get 'im nice and drunk, and find out what he ain't tellin' the rest of us," Jake said, continuing the conversation from before.

"What do you mean?" Del asked, trying not to let her state of confusion―made worse by the concussion and her trying to keep up with everything―show too obviously.

Jake straightened out his back, the wooden pick in his mouth moving up and down slowly as he crossed his arms over his chest. "How much he tell ya?" he mumbled at her, staring at her with a thoughtful face.

"About what?" she shot back, dropping any pretense. "He doesn't tell me shit to _begin_ with, much less specifics."

Jake chuckled. "Smart man," he muttered. He kept his gaze on hers, making her uncomfortable. His mouth twisted up into a wry smile.

She wasn't sure she wanted to know what he was thinking. "Look, all I know is I woke up alone on the beach with sand in my ass crack. Wasn't like I had a choice who could help me."

Jake laughed, dropping his arms to his side and shaking his head. "Ain't that a cold, hard truth," he said, giving her a genuine smile. "Guess ya earned yer name, Soul-of-Iron."

Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. Was that an Iron March thing, or something? She knew Kasimir went by another name, but why―why not his actual name? It was easier to say than this Heart-of-Iron bullshit.

"I―"

"Naw, the old man knows what he's doin'," Jake said, interrupting her. "Not too many people get his trust, anymore. 'Course..." he leaned against the wooden wall, his face closed up again. "That's 'bout like any of us on the Island."

Del looked away, her stomach suddenly doing flops inside her. "I just got here," she said, trying not to think about what the Woodsman wanted from her. Between the Stalkers and Crazy Bones... and whoever this Mara person was―she sounded terrifying, based on the little snippets of conversation Del had managed to overhear―

"Any time he's about, somethin' bad's about to happen," Jake went on. "And I ain't talkin' 'bout goin' to see the Shock, neither. Like he got this whole snowglobe we're in shook up and we gotta hold on tight."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Del said, exasperated. "Who are the Shock? Who's Mara? Where are we going?"

Jake snorted, regarding her with a pitying and somewhat amazed look. "The Shock run ocean beasts out and about the water. Ya don't wanna end up their dinner guest, iffen ya get my drift."

Well, that explained one thing. Kasimir's reluctance to go into the water was somewhat less annoying now, but still grated on her nerves given that the Shock were clearly nowhere in sight when they'd made their shallow-water crossings. Del grumbled under her breath. "And Mara?"

"She's complicated," Jake said. "Iffen I told ya too much, Heart-of-Iron prolly'd thump me right and proper."

"So what _can_ you tell me?" Del asked, even more annoyed.

"She runs the Shock," he replied. He hesitated. "Used to be real close with him."

"Ex-girlfriend or something?" _A crazy one._ Del rolled her eyes. That wasn't that unusual. She'd seen her fair share of crazy exes among her friends, back in school―

The thought of exes brought something back, something that made her uneasy. A tendril of the thought rooted itself to grow in the wanting soil of her mind. She tried to loose it, but it seemed impossible. She settled on ignoring it for now.

"Like I says, complicated." Jake rubbed his nose idly. "Listen, yer gun..."

"Came from the Stalkers," she reminded him. They'd discussed it earlier. Jake was attempting to coerce Kasimir to make guns for everyone-one of his talents that was unbeknownst to her. He reasoned they'd need them, going to see the Shock. It was all news to her.

"Ya know how to make 'em?"

Del turned her astonished look onto the man, and slowly shook her head. "I couldn't even begin to tell you how," she breathed out.

"Damn," Jake griped. "Yer a sight easier to deal with than the old man."

"I _just_ got here!" she reminded him, a little more forcefully. People assuming things about her was getting tiresome, especially from the cocksure Woodsman.

"We all got talents," he said amicably, shrugging a shoulder.

"Oh, yeah? What's yours, asking annoying questions?"

Jake snorted as he inhaled, falling into a fit of gasping. When he'd recovered, he shot her an admirable grin and muttered about how she was "just like my old lady". He excused himself from the stable and vanished somewhere, leaving her with the company of the compys and their incessant chirruping.

Del sighed in exasperation. Every time she thought she was onto something, figuring out the Island and what was going on...


	19. Trust

They'd decided to leave in the morning, so that everyone had a chance for proper rest and because Jake thought it was too risky to move in the dark. He glanced at Del and gave her a solemn nod, and Kasimir was rubbing his scars again. Del didn't ask.

Watching the Woodsmen ready for the move was a sight she wouldn't forget soon. Cocha threw open the door to the compy pen, letting the things into the main room of their hideout. About thirty or so lithe bodies flooded the room, winding under their feet and climbing tables and chairs without any regard to their masters, making the loudest and most painful racket Del could imagine hearing.

That all ended with a shrill whistle. The compys stopped in mid-action, each turning its head to the woman. "Out," she ordered them, her voice hoarse and low-pitched. It was the first word Del had heard the woman speak.

They filed out of the room, walking in pairs, slowly and calmly. Del's mouth opened in surprise and respect to the amount of training it must have taken.

Jake watched it all with a proud smile. Sheba sat on his shoulder, peeping out "orders" to each pair as they walked past her. It was insanity, but it was at least the amusing kind.

Del and Kasimir would travel as normal, with Barney trailing along behind them, carrying their own supplies in case the worst happened. Jake taught Del what Sheba's emergency call sounded like, and explained that the compys would survey the area from the undergrowth looking for enemies or predators.

"Iffen ya hear Sheba cryin', ya get hid," he said, succinctly. "She'll come find ya iffen I don't."

His peculiar attraction to her had gotten more obvious, and Del worried again what it might mean. Kasimir was, of course, no help at all. He stared straight ahead into the trees rather than scanning the area for threats, like he had each time they were away from shelter, and kept a perturbed look on his face. She ignored him, mostly.

The Woodsmen must have been extremely good at hiding. Hide nor hair of them was visible until they'd reached the beach. Del realized with a sinking heart that they were back south, the tiny rocky finger of land that served as Crazy Bones' home territory visible in front of them. She ventured a cautious look at Kasimir.

He was standing with a straightened back, his muscles tensed and face cast in stone. Del followed his gaze and it ended out over the water, which was peaceful and quiet compared to the cacophony of compy noise that suddenly emerged from the trees behind them.

Cocha's whistling rang out and the sound died as quickly as it had begun. Jake stepped into view from the treeline, leaning against a tree and eyeing the distance. "How lon' do ya think it'll take?"

The question was meant for Kasimir, who didn't respond right away. He balled his hands into fists and breathed out, loosing some of the tension in his limbs. "Don't know," he said, turning to the side and looking almost surprised that Del was standing beside him.

He motioned to her that she should go into the trees with Jake. She wavered with indecision for a moment before shaking her head. Based on what she'd heard about the woman and her tribe, she didn't want to be stuck behind the line of trees and unable to defend him if the situation turned violent.

"Do ya good to listen," Jake muttered, keeping his voice quiet and knowing.

Del realized it was probably a stupid idea. Deliberately putting herself in danger was weird, she thought. Even if she'd promised Kasimir she wasn't going anywhere―because he was the only person she could _trust_ ―

 _...Could_ she? _Really?_ Every person she'd met so far had been someone she wouldn't keep company with unless forced to. Even Jake, who seemed "normal" enough in general conversation. Ignoring the threats he'd made, he had brought up a notion that Kasimir was hiding something important―and not just from her, but from everyone on the Island.

She and Kasimir had been alone on the beach for weeks and his reluctance to talk about anything had gotten on her nerves. Even though she'd pushed him to tell her more, he refused to do so. She'd pretty much given up on trying.

Maybe that made him just predictable enough to be comfortable. The tendril in her thoughts had grown, feeling as if a creeping vine was crawling up against her skull. Maybe she couldn't trust _any_ of these people.

"Go," Kasimir said, shooting her a pointed look.

"Why?" Del snapped back.

This wasn't the answer he was looking for. Kasimir's face dropped into a frown and he tensed up again, the scars on his arms showing in bright pink against his skin. Even Jake made a tutting noise from behind them, turning his head away and muttering to himself.

She stared up at Kasimir, watching the confusion in his eyes change to annoyance. "Your promise," he stated, flatly.

"What―" Del snorted. "No, not that," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "God, you're not gonna let me live that down, are you."

Kasimir gave her a patient look. "The Shock are dangerous," he said. "You'll be safer in the trees."

"It isn't about being _safe,"_ she replied. "If that mattered, you wouldn't be here waiting for them."

Kasimir shot a glance at Jake, who promptly lifted his hands in the air and backed into the trees. Sheba even turned her face up and away, snubbing them. Del watched them from the corner of her eyes, waiting for them to completely disappear before opening her mouth to complain.

"Something's going on," she said, sharply. "Every time I turn around, someone's talking about this or that and I'm not even getting half of the story." She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Kasimir. "It was bad enough when it was just you doing that, but now everyone _else_ is too."

"You don't need to know," he repeated once more, his face impassive.

"Yeah, you keep saying that," she shot back, "but you and I both know I'm not going nowhere, anyway. Like I'm gonna be able to keep myself safe out there, what with you telling me almost nothing!"

"And?" Kasimir asked, his voice suddenly hard. "Because you're on the Island, you _should_ know everything?"

Del was caught off-guard by the change of behavior. His tone made her feel like she was a little kid again, like when she'd been caught stealing candy from the convenience store and the sweet old man at the counter turned into a drill instructor. "I just think―" she said, her chest tightening with emotion.

"You _don't_ think," Kasimir interrupted, his eyes icy. "If you had half of the story, someone would come after you, too. That is why you do not know. Why you do not _need_ to know."

Del knew what he was saying was what she'd needed to hear―that he was trying to keep her safe by keeping her out of the loop―but the slimy tentacle in her mind wouldn't let her drop the subject so easily.

 _Or_ with any grace. "You don't trust me at all," she pouted. "Not even when I dragged you out of that Stalker camp or stopped Jake from shooting you in the chest."

She hated the words as soon as she spoke them, and wished she hadn't said them at all. A fragment of a memory popped into her head, her yelling at her dad. Rushing out the door and slamming it so hard the glass picture window cracked. _It was raining..._

Kasimir didn't answer her accusation. Only stood there, his eyebrows drawn together and an angry and confused look spreading across his face. He drew a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, looking up into the trees and away from her.

The sound of the bolt impacting was surprisingly soft, but the pained sound Kasimir made certainly wasn't―he jerked backward abruptly, hitting the sand and kicking out, giving little huffing breaths coupled with bloody gurgles as he was pulled backward again. Del let out a small shriek, lurching forward to grab at him―

Jake pulled her back and into the trees, yelling something incomprehensible, and all she could do was watch helplessly as Kasimir grew smaller and smaller until he sank under the water's surface.


	20. The Shock

He would have laughed, if the water didn't close around his head as he was pulled into the depths.

A spear bolt jutted out of his left shoulder, blood clouding up the water in front of him. It was anchored fairly well, and his arms and legs were trailing out with the motion of whoever held the other end of the line.

The pain was negligible, which meant he was in shock, but then that was the _funny_ part, wasn't it?

He realized he needed to get himself free of the line and back to the surface. Kasimir was a good swimmer and could hold his breath for a long time, but whoever was dragging him down was aiming directly downward from the looks of it.

He swore inside his head, and twisted around. The force of the water pushed him back, making it extremely difficult for him to grasp the other end of the bolt. For a few long, harrowing seconds, he tried to turn himself and angle the rope over his arm―but it didn't matter. He'd lost the sword somewhere. Nothing to cut the line with.

Kasimir had imagined his death being a little less... he wanted to say pathetic, but clearly this situation wasn't as much pathetic as it was pitiable. With the rush of tiny fish and seaweed in his face, he could barely see who had taken him or how far down they were. All he could do at this point was hold onto the line and hope they rose to the surface―or stopped―

Three or four sharks were following behind him, small blobs of dark color against their back the only indication that they were not wild. Kasimir turned his attention back to his front, and grabbed the line with both hands.

And suddenly, it went slack. He dropped the line, pulling himself upward with as much force as he could muster, feeling his lungs begin to burn with the need for air. Might not make it―

A large, dark shadow was looming above him, blocking out the sun. Kasimir swore again.

Something bumped him from below, propelling him upward and out of the water with a massive shove. He couldn't see at first, the water in his eyes blurring everything together, but when he hit something hard and flat he was quick to grab hold and not let go.

"Well, well, _well,"_ someone said, a loud thunk of metal on metal sounding. In the background, he could hear jeering cries and the occasional insult being hurled at him.

"Mara," he croaked, without lifting his head. Water in his lungs, somehow. He coughed it up, mucus and blood mixing in a pool on the metal platform below him.

"So glad you remember my name," she spat, before giving a shrill whistle. The noise of the Shock in the background died down, leaving behind only the soft splashing of waves and a breathy trilling sound.

Kasimir remembered the beast. It was just as terrifying as it had been, when he first ran across it. Water edged over the platform and washed away the blood he still leaked. His shoulder began to actually hurt, now.

Not a good sign. "Mara," he wheezed, pushing himself upward and onto his knees. "Please."

"Hah!" she shouted, her voice full of hate. "The great Heart-of-Iron, begging for his life." The metal on metal sound thumped beside his head, making him flinch. "What's that _feel_ like, Kasimir?" she murmured, very close to his ear.

He turned his head to stare at her. Mara had changed quite a lot since he'd last seen her. She'd aged better than he, thin lines across her face barely noticeable but punctuated with freckles. Her hair was gone; at some point she'd decided to shave the mess of red curls completely. It made her look rough around the edges.

She lifted a hand and backhanded him across the face, knocking him sideways. _"Does it feel good?!"_ she shrieked, as he went sprawling into the ocean spray on the platform floor.

The bolt in his shoulder jarred against the platform, making him groan in agony. A foot rose and met his stomach with a swift motion, repeatedly. The only sounds in the air beyond the ocean waves were his involuntary grunts of pain and her shrieks of rage.

Kasimir spat up blood again, struggling to draw a breath as he lay on his uninjured arm. Even if she hadn't knocked the wind out of him with her assault, he knew the bolt had clipped one of his lungs. It would be a damned miracle if he made it out of this one alive, but he would hurt for far longer if he _did._

Mara let off the attack, backing up and breathing hard with exertion. "Nothing to say, have we?" she taunted. She knew full well he couldn't begin to talk, not with her well-aimed kicks.

Kasimir coughed up a mixture of mucus and blood, struggling to stand with one arm. The bolt wiggled loosely in his shoulder, slipping forward about an inch. Mara reached out and jerked the bolt out of his body, pulling the rope through the wound and holding it up in the air like some kind of demented trophy. All he could do was yell in pain and collapse onto the platform.

The Shock tribe members raised their voices in a single shout as she turned in a slow circle, an undulating wave of tribute to their leader. Mara cut the line and lowered her hand, staring down at Kasimir.

In one action he remembered why he'd allied himself with the leader of the Shock. Why her help had been so valued, and why he'd respected her so much that he let himself feel for her what he couldn't for any other person in either world.

"I won't kill you," she spat.

Thank you, he thought. A chunk of his flesh had been dislodged with the removal of the bolt, lying on the platform in front of him. It was surreal.

"No, I can't kill you," she continued. "That wouldn't do at all, would it." She turned away from him, muttering something under her breath. _"Get the cage!"_

As the Shock dragged him into the cage, dumping him unceremoniously onto the wooden floor, Kasimir could only think that he'd rightfully earned Mara's ire. Whatever she doled out to him, in this moment, he must endure.

...And before he passed out from the pain and blood loss, he hoped that Jake Ashley hadn't just fed him to the Shock in revenge for the past.


	21. The Rendezvous

"Close yer head!" Jake yelled at the woman, twisting her arm behind her back and pushing her down onto the ground. Soul-of-Iron yelped, pushing against him but ultimately giving to the pain and letting her knees hit the damp litter.

"We have to go get him―" she gasped, her voice strangled. Tears made clean paths through the dirt on her face as she cried, pathetic little blubbering sounds coming from her. Louis made a slight noise from the left of them, his ghillie-suited figure prone on the forest floor and shaded eyes forward toward the ocean.

A light trail of blood was clouding up the water, leading off some 50 yards and then vanishing. Jake sighed and shook his head to himself. Mara, that bitch, had dragged the ornery old asshole off into the depths by way of harpoon launcher.

"Shock got 'im now," Jake told the woman. "Nothin' we can do."

"Let me go, please!" she pleaded.

"Ain't gonna happen, babe," he replied, keeping his hand on her wrist. "They'll take him for a ride, 'less Mara wants ta play nice. We're gonna sit pretty at the rendezvous 'till we know what's up."

Soul-of-Iron made a horrible noise, lowering her head to the ground and placing her forehead onto the leaves. "He's too far away," she moaned, squeezing her eyes shut.

"That's what I says," Jake replied, making a face at her. Dumb broad sure didn't like listening. Just like an Iron Marcher, wasn't it?

Heart-of-Iron was trouble enough. But this one? His new woman was completely naïve. Just some idiot kid newly come to the Island, hitching herself to the old man for lack of someone better. Probably why the old man asked him to watch out for her, not as a favor but because he knew something like this shit with the Shock was bound to get him killed.

Any time he was about, something bad happened. Always did.

Well... Jake grinned to himself. At least this time, the bad shit happened to him. He'd suggested making friendly with the psychotic bitch because she was their best option. No matter how much he hated allying with the old asshole, this new tribe was enough to give him cold sweats at night. Found it hilarious that she'd delivered on him like the cops that took him down back in Florida.

Soul-of-Iron leaned forward into the dirt and cried noisily, her free hand balled into a fist and pounding at her temple. Jake rolled his eyes at the display. She'd come around eventually, but by the looks of things it wasn't gonna be anytime soon.

"Iffen you're done with the blubberin', we gotta get movin'," Jake told her, pointedly.

She didn't reply, just kept up with the unladylike display. "Jesus Christ," he groaned, unhooking his crossbow and hefting it with one hand. "Well, ya brought it on yerself, this time."

Jake cracked her across the temple, stilling her motion and noise.

* * *

Del woke with another headache. The darkness of the room was comforting, the gentle cracking of a fire nearby and soft fingers of light cast from it playing across the ceiling. She coughed up a wad of snot and wiped at her face, leaving a trail across her cheek.

Then the smell hit her. She was up on her feet in an instant, backing into the wall and reaching into her shirt to retrieve her gun―

Crazy Bones looked up at her from the other side of the fire, rotten teeth grinning at her from under his skull helmet.

The gun was gone. Del's eyes popped open, arms wrapping around her torso and breath coming fast. Fuck!

Crazy Bones coughed, then yelled out, "Jake!"

A shuffling sound from the other corner. Jake sat up, rubbing an eye and smacking his lips together. He yawned, stretching before blinking at the old black man.

Crazy Bones gestured at Del. Jake's eyes sharpened on her, smiling sleepily. "Good," he said, putting an arm down and pushing himself upward.

"What the fuc―" she started, but Jake shushed her with a finger against his lips. He moved closer to her and motioned for her to come outside with him.

She didn't have much choice, then, did she? Kasimir was―

Gone, taken by the Shock, she remembered that. The panic that hit her heart wasn't any less alarming than it had been. Somehow, though... the danger she felt now, around herself, sharpened her mind.

The―the buzzing was gone. Kasimir must be nearby. She felt immense relief for that.

It was nearly pitch black outside of Crazy Bones' house. Del took a deep breath of clean air, trying to shake the nasty smell from her nose. She could see stars above them, and once her eyes had adjusted she could see Crazy Bones' dinosaurs off to their right.

Once outside, Jake lifted out her gun and twirled it like some kind of Wild West gunslinger. He held it by the barrel and offered it to her. When she reached out for it, he jerked it back and shot her a piercing look.

"Iffen I give it back," he said, seriously, "ya'll ain't gonna shoot me or Duval, now, are ya?"

"I won't shoot you," she countered.

"He's a friend, Soul―"

"Don't call me that," she snapped. "My name is Del."

Jake smiled warmly, and handed the gun to her. "The old man didn't want me to call ya that," he said.

Del checked the gun and snapped the cylinder back into place. "Where are my bullets?" she asked, annoyed.

Jake grinned at her. "Keepin' those 'til mornin'. Here, c'mon," he said, waving her to follow him.

The Woodsman led her along the coast, picking his way through the rocks and stopping before they reached the far end. He dropped into a crouch and edged along a larger rock, pointing around its corner.

Del moved up onto the rock and peered out into the ocean. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to be seeing, at first. There were large shadows in the water, soft growling noises and hushed snippets of conversation floating across to them.

Oh. She hissed out a sigh. No wonder her head wasn't buzzing anymore. The Shock were camped just outside of Crazy Bones' house.

"Is he..." she started, glancing back at Jake.

"Gotta be," Jake replied, keeping his voice low. "Mara shoulda taken him out and drowned his ass. Wouldn't be here 'less she's playin' nice. Like I says before."

Del breathed in and out carefully, nodding to herself. "So, what do we do?"

Jake shrugged a shoulder. "We wait 'til she lets him go or kills 'im."

"I don't like that plan."

Jake chuckled under his breath. "Ya don't wanna go makin' a friend of the Shock, trust me. Even iffen ya got there without them beasts eatin' ya, Mara might."

Del paused for a moment to think, but shook her head at the jumbled thoughts that came. "And why should I stay here, with you two?"

Jake looked wounded in the near-total darkness. "Ya know, I'm tryin' to be friendly-like with ya'll. Ya ain't makin' it easy."

Del snorted at him and shook her head. "I don't trust you," she muttered.

"Good." Jake nodded. "Never trust nobody. Good plan. Ya'll know my guys are out here hidin' in case ya wanna try somethin'. Ain't like I trust ya any more than Duval."

"Kasimir trusts him." Del's hand tightened on the pistol, remembering the bolas.

"Heart-of-Iron knows where he stands," Jake replied, backing away from the rocks. "Ain't no one on this here Island gonna try to kill him."

"You said Mara should have."

"She'd torture him first," Jake mumbled, backing away further. "C'mon. Let's get back in."

Del shook her head. "No," she said, angrily. "I don't think I will."

Jake sighed. His form now only a shadow in the darkness, hidden among the rocks, Del couldn't tell where he was. She supposed she should worry that the man was planning to ambush her, or something, but that didn't make any sense. Why he would try to kill her, when he was trying to help... if he really was trying to help?

"Listen," Jake said, his voice floating through the night. "Iffen ya come back to the house, I'll tell ya why and what and all that shit. How come Heart-of-Iron won't get killed."

"Not lying?" Del shot back, turning her eyes away from the Shock.

"I don't like lyin'," Jake replied, uneasily. " 'Specially not ta pretty ladies."

Del growled under her breath. There it was again. She debated internally, for a moment. "If I come back to the house, will you give me back my bullets?" she asked, as innocently as she could.

"Promise not ta shoot Duval?"

"So long as he doesn't touch me, breathe on me, or get anywhere near me," she grumbled.

Jake laughed. "Yeah, ok. C'mon, pretty lady."

Del frowned at the shadow moving back toward the house. She shot a look back to the water, the beasts milling about and the sounds that came from the ocean.

 _Suppose it can't be helped,_ she thought.


	22. The Truth

Note: Minor continuity edit. Only one sentence was removed.

* * *

"You can't be serious!" Crazy Bones shouted, rattling his bones and making another ungodly racket. Del winced at the sound.

"She's Iron March, man," Jake complained. "Got a right to know what she's in for."

"Célise said no one was to speak it," Cocha said, shooting daggers with her eyes at the Woodsman.

"Célise is our boss," Jake shot back, firmly. "Iffen she was here, she'd tell her _herself."_

Goose nodded in agreement with this, sitting with his back against the wall near to Del. He'd demanded to examine Del again, after her... he called it an accident, but the way he'd looked at Jake and Jake's "innocent" response had made Del wonder exactly how she'd become unconscious, this time.

"I don't have half an idea what the fuck is going on," Del put in, for herself. "How am I supposed to help if I don't even know?"

Jake pointed at her with both hands, his face serious and eyebrows raised. "Ain't no arguin'. I'll tell her. Iffen someone got a problem, I get the blame."

"You always do," Goose sighed.

"Hey, now," Jake said, frowning. "Ain't no call for that shit."

Cocha shook her head, leaving the house. She gestured for the other Woodsmen to follow her, and whistled for the compys. The handful inside the room jumped up and left, except for Sheba.

Sheba jumped onto Del's hip, her claws poking into the thin cloth shirt she wore. She was heavier than Del thought she'd be. After climbing up to her shoulder, the compy rubbed her sleek scales against her cheek, chirruping apologetically.

"I don't like it, Jake," Crazy Bones said.

"Ya don't gotta." Jake cleared his throat and squared his shoulders, staring over the fire at Del. "Ya ready for this?"

Del glanced at Crazy Bones, then back at Jake. She reached up and ran her hand along Sheba's side, nodding.

"About, what, thirty years back?" Jake looked over at the black man, who agreed solemnly. "No one on the Island knew a damn thing about those towers in the sky. Ain't like we didn't go see 'em, or nothin'. Just couldn't figure the shit out."

"Thirty years?" Del asked, curiously.

"Time moves different here," Crazy Bones said. "Being alive is a little... less important."

Del frowned in confusion. Jake continued:

"Anyway, no matter what we did, no one could make no sense of the things. Then, one day, some asshole from up north come down and offered to do us a solid. Ya know him.

"He wanted food. Protection. People to back him up. Said he'd been lookin' hard at the towers and knew how to get us all back home, back to Earth."

Del sighed internally. She'd had the same thought. A lot of what Kasimir had said, made more sense now.

"Said he needed people ta get up in the towers. Things ta do, shit to make. Had us all craftin' metal and gunpowder, when we was home. Got all our beasts lined up ta go down fightin'." Jake shifted his weight, like he was uncomfortable.

"That's when we had our war," Crazy Bones put in. He shook his head, noisily.

"Willow Tree didn't like him much," Jake agreed. "None of them guys on the east coast did. Hired Duval here ta take out Heart-of-Iron, stop him from fuckin' up the―" Jake laughed. " _'Natural order of things,'_ he said. Célise told him where ta shove it, didn't she?"

Crazy Bones grinned, nodding enthusiastically. "She's not very polite, that one."

"So..." Del frowned. "Willow Tree paid Crazy Bones to hunt him down?"

"That he did." Crazy Bones sighed, wistfully. "Never had so much fun. Had my longnecks, had my babies. Stones and stones of bodies to destroy the Eagle Gate. Even my boy..."

"Too bad he never took ta bein' tamed," Jake said, sympathetically. "The biggest of bigs, that one."

Crazy Bones made a sad noise, looking down at the fire.

"War," Del said. It was really more of a question.

"The best kind," Jake replied. "Willow Tree backed down after a time. Walled up his little kingdom over there, hid his people in the fields. The Shock came 'round, then. Ain't nothin' like seein' Mara's face lit up behind a cannon, takin' out those walls." He smiled to himself. "She's still got some of her guns, obvious. I think Mara just didn't like Willow Tree. Old Heart-of-Iron saw her, man..."

"He loved her," Crazy Bones said, appreciatively. "Like no other. Man was _obsessed."_

"Mara had better guns than any of us ever did. Figure that's how she managed out there, on the water." Jake shook his head. "It was all over for us, then. Didn't get any people from the Runners. We got in by fightin' and went up the green tower."

Crazy Bones sighed, loudly. "Let go of the old war."

"Wouldn't gotten out of there without him," Jake muttered.

Del looked between the two of them, confused. "What's in the tower?" she asked.

Jake cracked his knuckles, idly. "Monsters."

"What?" she asked, even more confused.

"Spiders. Little ones, big one. Death in a fuckin' arena. He said it was right, what he thought. We was supposed ta fight our way through the place, prove our worth. Couldn't go home 'til we had it out with all the bigs."

Del frowned. PvP on the Island, but... the towers were definitely boss fights.

"I wasn't goin' in on the last one. No one really wanted to. It was tempting, but―" Jake groaned, and wiped his face. "You don't come back from the tower fights."

She was still confused as all hell, but she was trying to understand. "So what happened?"

Crazy Bones shook his head. "More like what didn't."

"The last fight ain't up in the sky," Jake said, with finality. "There's this place up in the volcano, a cave like where all the keys to the towers are. Snow Children found it for him. They was the last he had, when he went up." He made a sad noise. All of em, they died in there. Heart-of-Iron came out alone."

"Célise and myself pulled him out of the place," Crazy Bones said. "I lost my taste for the money, for Willow Tree."

"He never told," Jake said, looking at Del. "What was in there. Why he'd lived, or even what was on the other side. Gave up everythin', in there. Refused to tell any of us why our people died for him, or if he was right."

Shit. Del winced in pain for Kasimir. To have a plan, to try to get home... back to Earth, away from the insanity of the Island. And to give it up?

Del bit the inside of her cheek and stopped herself from saying anything, her hand dropping from Sheba's side.

"And then?" she asked, her voice strained.

"Célise told everyone to let him be," Jake finished. "Said to give him time. Been sittin' on the beach for the last twenty years, pretending he don't remember what happened. Half the people on the Island came down the light there, but they ain't remembering him, neither. No one wants to. Everyone wants to know. No one wants to ask."

The answer must not have been what he wanted.

There was no way out. Couldn't be.

Del closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest, exhausted.


	23. Down the Light

Note: Thanks for the review, Guest!

* * *

He was falling.

He remembered this. The stars turned into spinning circles, rotating in the blackness around him. Nausea overtook him, forcing acid into his mouth.

Slowly the stars winked out, pitch black sky replaced by a sudden paralyzing brightness. Heat seared across his skin, agonizingly. He writhed, suspended in the beam, knowing what would come next.

Kasimir came down the light.

* * *

He hit the ground running, as soon as he was able, breaking for the nearest trees. He knew where he was, aimed himself eastward. Could hear the hissing of spitters as he sprinted through the trees, nearly naked and without any means to protect himself.

He ran until he couldn't, anymore. Kept moving, breath heavy in his chest and eyes darting around him. The fear of the Island had an icy grasp on his brain, pushing him to continue.

"You can't run forever," Mara said, her steps heavy on the ground beside his.

He collapsed onto the leaf litter, within sight of the rocky trading post. A booted foot came down, pressing him into the sharp sticks and reeds.

"Why do you try?" she hissed, the sharp sound of her reloading her harpoon launcher echoing in his ear.

Kasimir closed his eyes. "You never stop chasing," he mumbled, waiting for the bolt that would inevitably come.

 _"I don't!"_ she giggled, her voice rising in pitch as she pulled the trigger.

Pitiable.

* * *

Del was huddled in the corner of Crazy Bones' home, shivering even in the heat. She hadn't moved in about an hour, except to cry out every time her specimen implant began glowing and the painful rattle of her brain overtook her.

Jake and Crazy Bones were discussing something in low tones on the other end of the room, while the rest of the Woodsmen were cooking food over the campfire. Everyone seemed to be ignoring her distress.

In fact, the only creature in the room who paid her any real attention was Sheba. The compy had curled up beside her, cooing in a comforting way. Del was appreciative of her company, but didn't understand what was going on.

She yelped again and slapped her hands to her face. What the hell _was_ that?! Was it because she was away from Kasimir?! It felt like the horrible throbbing in her head didn't let up for more than five minutes at a time.

Sheba moved onto her lap, rubbing the top of her head against her chest. She peeped at her, sympathetically.

"Where is he, Sheba?" Del mumbled.

Sheba paused for a moment, then made a questioning sound. Del opened her eyes―probably bloodshot by now―and stared into her shining black ones.

"Find him?" she said, more to herself than Sheba. "But... I can't. It _hurts."_

Sheba chirruped and moved off her lap, trotting off toward the fire.

 _"Goddammit,_ ya lil―" Jake yelled, suddenly. Sheba made a trilling chirp, and a clattering noise echoed in the room. "Get the hell out, Sheba!"

The door opened and slammed shut, Jake muttering curses under his breath. One of the others laughed at him.

She felt the ache in her head begin again. Del curled into herself, moaning in misery. She felt like shit about what had happened to Kasimir. Shouldn't have questioned him. Shouldn't have distracted him. He wouldn't have been dragged off like that if she'd just―

Just _what?_ Trusted him? All that question had done was cause _more_ trouble. Del reminded herself that the man had sheltered her for weeks on the beach, taught her tricks to hunting, showed her what to eat and what not to, and protected her from dinosaurs. All without being asked, or without her thanking him.

...He'd even built onto his hut, because of her. And she'd thrown a tantrum like a stupid child. _Again._

Del shifted in place, leaning against the wall and shielding her face from the others. She wanted to punch herself in the head for being so stubborn―

That irritating thought came back again.

Her memories were still fragmented, still creeping along the back of her mind. She'd tried to push them away, but now... now, she _needed_ them. Del latched onto it as a way to ignore the pain. Remembered.

It was raining. Raining hard, too, rivers of churning water roaring along the gutters and over the sides, drenching anyone who came to the front door. Del was in the living room, glancing outside every now and then. Her thumb hovered over the keypad of her phone, debating on whether to send the message.

The air was so ugly outside. Gray, lifeless. Del touched the phone's screen. God, she was so bored.

Through the sheer curtains, she could see the white pickup arriving. The sound of the motor was drowned out by the rain―maybe she could sneak out without her dad hearing, too.

There was a gorgeous boy behind the wheel, a fuzzy beard newly growing along his sharp jaw.

The fight happened then. Her dad didn't like him. She'd broken the glass picture window when she slammed the door, and there would be hell to pay for that, but―

Del stared at the terraced pattern of stones in the wall. She wiped away a tear, surprised that she still could cry after the unrelenting pain had wrenched a flood from her.

She was so... so, tired. Her hands shook with nerves. She wanted to go home, wanted to fight with her dad again. Wanted to get lectured by him as she was forced to fix the window, wanted to be bored in her room because she'd been grounded from her phone and going out with friends―

Wanted to be _normal_ again. She balled up her hands and drove them into her eyes, biting her lip to stop the noise in her throat from escaping. It felt like her eyeballs would shake right out of her skull.

She had to find Kasimir. The pain wouldn't stop, until she found him. He was the closest thing to normal she had on the Island, and she'd probably screwed that up for good.

 _Made the tribe,_ he'd said. She wondered if he could kick her out.

Jake groaned another curse, distracting her. He opened the door, letting Sheba into the house again. "Yeah, okay, c'mon then," he grumbled. The compy was carrying something and bounded across the room, landing in Del's lap and startling her. She dropped a leather waterskin on her lap, and waggled her whole body in an enthusiastic display.

"Let her 'lone, ya idiot," Jake called. Cocha whistled lowly, causing Sheba to hop away and run to her side.

Del squinted at the compy, then felt the skin she'd brought. No water. Several small and round things were inside it―

Her bullets! Jake hadn't returned them to her, even though she'd asked. _Sheba, you sweet thing._ Del wondered what kind of treats you fed a dinosaur. She'd pay her back for this, somehow.

She smiled to herself, weakly. The pistol was resting against her stomach, held in her waistband. She leaned back against the wall and sighed in relief.

Now, to get outside without attracting suspicion...

* * *

The men had been triumphant in taking down a long-necked beast that stomped through the swamps. It had been chased into their territory, obviously. Sammon took a few men and tracked the creature back to a small and well-hidden shelter in the trees.

Woodsmen. He nodded to himself. Those who had fled from their attack, weeks before. There were signs of their beasts, lined paths through the brush. Footprints. No leftovers, no. The Woodsmen were smarter than that.

Not smart enough to not be tracked. Sammon smiled to himself, stalking carefully through the bushes.

He sent the men to claim the shelter and tracked the Woodsmen, alone. Another beast, here. Two were traveling with it, one with heavy and small tracks. The other walked lightly, his prints as invisible as the Woodsmen.

He came to the beach, peering out of the trees and noting a bloodstain on the sand. A drag mark. Ended in the ocean, and even more amazingly...

There they were. The devil woman, her tribe, were moored in the mouth of the river, men milling about on the backs of their beasts. While he was tempted to go away and retrieve his men, to overtake and convert, he daren't chance losing them to her cannons.

He was pondering what to do when a familiar sound burst through the underbrush, catching his attention. The sound of a chase. A woman shrieking curses. Light and fast footsteps. His ears told him the woman was in the trees, chasing someone or something fleet.

He smiled, disappearing into the brush to await Lady Fortune's hand once more.

* * *

Del pried herself from the corner as soon as the rattling in her head had died down again, stumbling a few steps before making a determined effort to reach the door. Her legs wobbled under her, her whole body weak.

"Hey!" someone yelled, moving to intercept her. Del hit the door, mumbling about needing to pee. The response was sympathetic. No one seemed to be worried that she'd run off; they let her leave without an escort.

She opened the door and fell out onto the sand, landing on her knees. _Get tough or die,_ she told herself. _Can't be that hard. The others did it, right?_

But which way to go? She looked around, trailing a hand against the wall of the house as she moved north. She recognized the rocks. The sun was pretty low in the sky. Her implant said the time was 16:30. For a moment she tried to figure that one out, but gave up.

 _Fuck it,_ she told herself. The beach across the water was easy enough to reach, and―and if he wasn't there, she'd just―well, she'd know, one way or the other.

Del breathed shallowly, grabbing at a nearby rock for balance. When she reached the water, she half jumped and half flopped into it. Pulled herself along the bottom, shying away from any fish she encountered.

The water felt good. Cool on her skin. She surfaced, grabbing handfuls of sand and loose vegetation on the other side. Felt so much better, already. The shock from the implant barely tingled, now, like an arm falling asleep. He had to be somewhere, out there.

She stood up and pulled out the gun, blinking water from her eyes. Four bullets left. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to work.

Del could see the bloodstain on the sand, a painful reminder of her stupidity. _No,_ she told herself. _Don't think about that, think about getting him back. It's not that hard. You did it by yourself, last time, right?_

Well, she reasoned, if she was lost in the trees alone and after dark she wouldn't have to worry about the buzzing, anymore. Because she'd die. Which might be a relief, considering how confusing everything on the Island was.

Del looked up into the sky at the setting sun, took a deep breath, and walked into the trees.


	24. Mara

Mara chased him, again.

Killing him wasn't enough to pay back all the men who had died, all the tribe mates she'd allowed to join with him, in the name of getting home. The satisfaction of his repeated deaths wasn't enough to cover all she had done in his name, or the creatures she'd lost when they searched the caves for the keys to the floating stones.

Wasn't enough to make her less embarrassed that she'd fallen for him, zealously and jealously, nor was it enough to pay back all the _hurt_ he'd caused her.

Damn the old woman for her truce! Mara couldn't chase him, then. Couldn't bring him to heel like she'd wanted to. Even twenty years of absence wasn't enough to make _her_ heart grow fonder.

But as she chased him now... though her spirit soared, her will was failing. It was a strange feeling. She would kill him only a few times more, she told herself. That would sate her, she thought. That would make her lose all desire to see his body broken and bloodied before her, her hand the cause of it.

Only a few times more.

But damn him! Looking up at her from the ground, his limbs a tangle of bones and flesh, hearing him pleading for her to stop, seeing his eyes. They stuck to her like sunlight, painted onto her skin... she hated him, more than she ever had. She couldn't stop herself the kill, couldn't let go of her rage!

Maybe it was the hundredth time. Maybe it was the thousandth. She'd lost count, couldn't stop herself from loosing her harpoon into his face. Destroying those eyes she'd stared lovingly into for years... her arm faltered.

 _He saw it._

"Please don't," Kasimir moaned, his voice faint in the haze of her fury. Damn him! Damn them _all!_

A chain bola flew from the trees as swift and sure as her own hand, cracking her in the skull on its path to ensnare her legs. Blood gushed from her forehead, the pain sharpening her instincts immediately. Mara shrieked, aiming and loosing a harpoon bolt at the assailant.

Her mouth opened in a hideous, red-soaked grin as the man grunted in pain and fell from the tree with a loud thump into the berry-laden bushes. She didn't bother removing the bola from her legs. She didn't need them to kill.

Mara went down on her hands and skittered across the earth at the enemy, growling like a wild animal. Dirt flew up from the ground, flecking large leafed plants as she passed them in her hurry to destroy the interloper.

The man let loose a curse, moving backward from her on his ass and elbow, one hand desperately grabbing for a weapon at his side. Mara hissed, spittle and blood spraying his face as she set upon him with teeth and nails.

She couldn't see who he was, his face macerated and bubbles of air popping at his throat like a boiling pot of sticky paste had been poured upon him. It didn't matter who he was. He would be dead, soon enough.

When he stopped hitting her about the head and shoulders, she sat up. Cracking her neck and licking her lips, smiling sweetly down on the man, she paused to admire her work. "Oh," she said, softly. "I'm _so_ sorry. Let me... _kiss it better."_

She lowered her mouth to the mess and bit down.

The man had a gun. She picked it up, turned it over in her hands before moving to free herself. She kicked the bola to the side, and turned back to Kasimir. "How _maddening,"_ she began, "of him to interr―"

Her voice died in her throat, transforming into a guttural growl of annoyance. A woman stood by Kasimir, hands on a pistol and aimed at her. A pretty young thing, ample chest expanding with each breath and eyes keen on her.

Mara beamed at her, wiping blood from her chin. Lifted the gun and aimed it on the woman.

She wasn't afraid.

Never was. Never had been.

* * *

Del had come over the hill and stumbled on the scene, a chained woman attacking someone who flailed arms about her head uselessly. She'd watched her tear his throat out with a single decisive bite, shuddering in shock and disgust at the sight. When she'd stood, Del composed herself as best she could and aimed the pistol on her.

"Is that her?" Del asked Kasimir, who was lying sideways on the ground with what appeared to be a broken nose. He closed his eyes and breathed out, slowly and painfully. Made no effort to move, only laid on the rock that he'd draped himself over.

He didn't look terribly injured. But she was confused. Something was different, something she couldn't put her finger on. Shook her head and ignored it. More important things to deal with.

"Are you Mara?" Del asked the woman, cautiously.

The woman rotated her shoulders in a circle, bringing a gun up to aim it at her. "I'm your worst fucking nightmare, _sweetie pie,"_ she said, seriously.

Del pulled the hammer back on her pistol, raising it to her shoulder like she'd seen cops do in the movies. "Are you Mara?" she asked again, enunciating each word. Tried to match the woman's serious tone.

"Of course I _bloody well am!"_ Mara shouted. "Who in God's name are _you?"_

She wasn't so sure she wanted her to know her real name. It was silly of her, maybe. But maybe she shouldn't tell it, because it was something only she had to share. "Soul-of-Iron," she replied.

Mara stood up straight like someone had slapped her ass, dark eyes narrowing on her. She bared her teeth at Del for a fraction of a second before she grinned, widely. It made her look almost comical―she had enormous teeth in that mouth, exaggerated canines that Del would compare to monster makeup.

The bloodstains sold the whole thing, really. It made Del breathe a little easier, a vice grip loosening in her chest and her confidence growing. The blood-soaked monster before her had a gun, but she didn't seem... real.

Mara's gun looked like the kind a Modern Bad Guy would hold, complete with a silencer on the end. Del kept her grip tight on the handle and her finger on the trigger of her own "Wild West" revolver. "Look, I know you want―"

"You know nothing of me, you gobermouch," Mara spat, blood flying from her mouth. "Whatever you've been told, you have _yet_ to learn."

Del swallowed the dry feeling in her mouth, and nodded. "Alright. I don't know you. I'm only here for Kasimir."

"I'd give him to a piper's wife a'fore you," the woman snarled.

Del blinked. "Excuse me?" she asked, taken aback by the... expletive, she assumed. It sounded ridiculous.

"He's _mine,"_ came the hissed reply.

"No, he's Iron March," she told the woman. "Like me."

Mara loosed some kind of... old school, Shakespearean foulness onto her, her hands shaking. The gun bobbed up and down, wildly. Del stayed as still as possible, tensing her legs to move should she fire.

The woman jerked her head to the side, staring viciously at Kasimir's limp body. She blinked blood from her eyes, wobbling from side to side, then looked up at Del. Her mouth twitched into half-smiles and grimaces, as if she didn't know how or what to feel.

Maybe the head wound caused her to lose her senses. What skin she had that wasn't covered in blood was nearing the same color. Del hadn't seen someone literally turn red with anger before. It made her look even more ridiculous.

"Put down the gun," Del said, as calmly as she could, "and we'll talk about this. Okay?"

"You first," Mara shot back, her teeth still bared.

Del lowered her pistol, placing it carefully onto the ground. Mara lowered her arm, but didn't drop the gun. She stared at Del, her cheeks puffing up with each angry breath she let out.

Del motioned her head to Kasimir, kneeling and slowly putting a hand out to touch his neck. She pressed two fingers into his skin hard enough to hurt him, making him jump and mumble something as his eyelids fluttered in confusion.

"Calm down, you idiot," she muttered. "It's only me."

He focused his eyes on Del, looking befuddled for a long moment. His eyes were still the same old tired blue, but―

His long scar was gone. The mark left by the Sailback man was no longer on his face, either. All the lines in his face she remembered had disappeared, leaving him looking far younger than her previous estimation of fifty years. Del blinked, surprised.

"Who is _she?"_ Mara spat at Kasimir, hatefully.

He turned his head to look at her, eyebrows drawn together over bloodshot eyes. Pushed himself up from the rocks, slipping once, and sat back on his ass in a daze. "Mara?" he asked, as if he couldn't believe it was really her.

"Who the fuck is she, _really?"_ Mara asked, her voice rising a couple of octaves. "You got a new girl, Kasimir?"

Del remembered what Crazy Bones had said about Kasimir being obsessed with Mara. Must've gone both ways. Crazy exes. She shook her head at Mara, holding a hand out to help him up. "Just a tribe mate," she said.

"I wasn't speaking to _you,_ hidgeot!" Mara growled.

Kasimir turned his head slowly to stare at her outstretched fingers. He coughed, pushing aside Del's hand. "No," he mumbled.

"Weren't planning on coming back, were you?!" Mara strode across the ground, bearing down on him. She struck him across the ear, opening the skin.

"Hey!" Del shouted. "Leave him alone!" she warned her, shoving her away.

 _"Get away with you!"_ Mara screamed at her. She aimed her gun at her―

Del had never been shot before. It didn't feel like anything. There was no pain, but a hot and wet gush along her upper arm. But when her arm moved, fire flooded through her. She looked down in disbelief, blinking, and staggered backward at the sight. There was so much blood―

She started to hyperventilate, grabbing at her shoulder and staring at Mara with wide eyes.

Kasimir coughed again. _"Mara,"_ he said, insistently.

Mara snapped her attention to him. Another gunshot rang out. The woman's head jerked backward, her body going slack. She loosed her gun, dropping to the ground knees first, falling forward in a bloody slump. A gory hole oozed black lumps from the back of her skull, her arms twitching once before falling still.

Del couldn't control her breathing, backing away from the body and falling onto her ass in the leaf litter. "She―you―" she panted, gasping in pain as the fire in her shoulder moved across her chest muscles.

"Don't think about it," Kasimir said, as he pushed himself to a stand and moved to her side.

Del swallowed hard and leaned onto her arm, staring at him. He grabbed her under her armpit, pulling her upright.

 _What the hell!_


	25. Be Quiet

"Stop!" the girl pleaded with him. _"Stop,_ goddammit!"

Kasimir, pushing her by her uninjured side, quit walking but didn't let go. "Need to get out of here," he said, glancing around them.

Mara would come down the light somewhere on the east coast, but it wouldn't take her long to regroup with the Shock and catch up to them. She was going to be even more furious with him. At least her anger was useful, for once. The girl might have gotten worse than a shoulder injury, if Mara wasn't so out of her head.

He ought to regret having to shoot Mara. Being killed over and over by her must have dulled whatever love still remained in his heart. He couldn't even muster sympathy, now.

 _How the tables have turned,_ he wondered.

The girl hissed, placing a hand on her shoulder and whimpering at the blood. "She _shot_ me!" she cried, sounding shocked.

If he wasn't so exhausted, he might attempt to assuage her innocence. "We can't stop here," he added, pointedly. A warm wind was blowing through the trees, but the noises of the beasts had died down. That usually meant a bigger one was out there.

Or there were people in the forest, and he didn't want to be around when they _inevitably_ heard the girl shrieking.

"Why―" the girl started, but shouted again for him to stop as he pushed her forward.

"Move," Kasimir told her, squeezing her shoulder harshly.

 _"No!"_ she cried, trying to pry his hand off her armpit. Her hands were bloody and slipped against his, ineffectively.

Night fell, suddenly. Always came so quickly, the sun extinguished startlingly. Kasimir paused, allowing his eyes to adjust. Their situation wasn't ideal, but at least the darkness gave them cover.

The girl babbled on about Crazy Bones and not trusting the others. "Be quiet," he hissed.

She did anything but, protesting and sputtering. "I'm not going back to that house!" she nearly shrieked, her fingernails scraping across his knuckles.

"Then where do _you_ suggest we go?" he snapped at her, his normal patient self gone. He tightened his hand on her shoulder unforgivingly, shaking her back and forth in his anger. "The beach isn't _safe._ The forest isn't _safe._ _Nothing is fucking safe here."_

The girl went still, quitting her fight against his grip. "I don't know," she whispered, in a tiny voice.

"Listen to me," he said, pulling her closer so she could hear his hushed words. "For _once."_

The girl mumbled something, going limp in his grasp. "What?" he prompted angrily, shaking her again.

"You're hurting me," she said, a little louder. He could see her eyes, big and wet, catching a beam of moonlight briefly. She whimpered under her breath, staring at him with fear in her face.

The anger abated. Kasimir loosened his grip on her shoulder. "Why did you come?" he pressed her, his face drawn. "You should have stayed with Jake."

"I know," she whispered. "But―" She looked down and away, hiding her face from him, hiccuping. "Well... you k-know. The..." Her hand went up to her head, waving at her temples.

He breathed out through his nose, forcibly. Her link to his tribe was stronger than any other he'd ever seen. Seemed she couldn't be more than two hundred meters from him, no matter what, without suffering the debilitating reminder.

More trouble than she was worth. If she was worth anything. He begrudgingly admitted to himself that she'd saved him thrice now, and he _probably_ owed her some consideration for that.

A gentle but hot rain began to fall around them. That would give them more cover, but muddy footprints made them easier to track. He shook his head at the girl. "If she finds us again, she'll kill us both," he told her. "We need to move."

"How?" She wiped rain from her face. "You _killed_ her―"

"That's not how it works, here," he replied, pulling her forward again. She picked up her feet and began to walk, but sputtered out another protest.

"Then―how does it work here?" she asked, turning her head to look at him from the corner of her eyes.

Kasimir hadn't been looking forward to the conversation. "I came down the light again," he said. It was a over-simplification of the constant death and rebirth he'd undergone, but it served the purpose.

"What?" Her head jerked around to stare at him.

"I died." He took a slow and deep breath, keeping his eyes forward. "Repeatedly."

"Then... that's what that was?" she said, her voice incredulous. "All that shit in my head was 'cause you kept coming... back?"

"Mara wasn't happy with me," he stated, flatly.

"No _shit,"_ she replied, in a blunt manner. She was quiet for a moment, watching her step through the brush. "Wait, why do you look so much younger?"

"Later," he answered, removing his hand from hers as they reached the end of the trees. The Shock were still out on the water, lights bobbing up and down on their homes and beasts. Kasimir looked back and forth, scanning the beach. Nothing that he could see, but that meant nothing.

"But I don't understand," the girl whined.

He turned his head back to her, staring at her befuddled face in the darkness. "Can you not stop _talking?"_ he asked, exasperated.

"Oh, right, stupid me." She slapped a hand to her forehead, leaving a bloody print on her skin. "I should know better than to ask you questions, you _never_ fucking answer them _anyway."_

His youth being restored, even in such a cruel manner, had not improved his patience or temper. Kasimir shook her again, more violently than the last time. "If you were not that _stupid,_ we would not _be_ in this situation!" he seethed.

The girl paled even further, the blood on her face shining like an ink spill against her ashen skin.

Kasimir took a calming breath. "If you are quiet until we reach the trading post, I will explain."

She slowly moved pinched fingers across her closed mouth, indicating she understood. Kasimir shoved her out of the trees, waiting for any reaction from the Shock out on the water. The girl turned back to him, frowning. She opened her mouth, then closed it.

The Shock didn't budge from their places. Kasimir grabbed her again, pushing her across the sand and into the water.


	26. Coward

"Ya look pretty good," Jake said, leaning his arms over the back of a chair. "Ya know, for a dead man."

Kasimir shot the Woodsman a scathing glance. Jake grinned at him, widely. Nothing new under the sun, there.

The girl was whining again, Jake's doctor pulling the bullet from her shoulder. Their re-entry to the trading post had been... _dramatic,_ to say the least. Aside from confusion about his reappearance and his explaining what the girl had done, Jake had yelled the gold-colored compy for bringing the bullets in and at Goose for letting the girl leave the house alone. Neither of the two paid him any attention.

But the mood grew somber when they realized that the Shock were probably going on the warpath, and soon. The situation was a damn _disaster._ The girl interrupting Mara had caused Kasimir to take drastic action, ending any potential for allying themselves with the Shock. What was left was to figure out what to do, now.

Crazy Bones was sitting quietly in the corner, watching everyone with a crossbow on his lap. Kasimir didn't blame him. Always had been suspicious of others, but tensions were especially high and someone was bound to start something they couldn't finish.

He rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes. Thirteen times. She'd chased him and killed him thirteen times, her rage not lessening with each hunt. He could feel each bolt as it tore through his skull, the sudden pain and the nothing that came after.

He still didn't have any remorse for killing her, though.

The girl yelled out in pain again. Jake made a tutting noise. "Quit bein' a baby," he said, looking over at her.

"Well, I'm sorry," she huffed, "but it fucking _hurts_ when someone digs _a_ _goddamn bullet out of you!"_

Jake cracked a grin, turning back to Kasimir. "She's somethin', ain't she?"

Kasimir ignored him, focusing his eyes on the map against the wall. Crazy Bones hadn't updated it yet, for what they knew about the Unnamed tribe. Kasimir moved to a stand, crossing the room.

He scrounged around in boxes for a moment and came up with a paintbrush and some dye. Stared at the hide map for a time, before moving his hand across it. When he was done, he stood back and looked at his work.

"UNNAMED" was written in large letters across the middle of the Island, stretching from Cragg's Island in the lower left and ending north of what he assumed was still Runner territory. A small blob denoted the trading post, another the shelter where the Woodsmen had hidden for the last few months. He'd marked Sailback land with a question. Based on what they now knew, it was unlikely they'd be able to fight off the Unnamed any better than the Woodsmen had.

He chose another dye color and made marks around the map to show where he'd found the artifacts, in the past. Yet another color for the approximate position of the beacons, where the Unnamed tribe would take the artifacts if they could manage to acquire any.

Lastly, he chose red dye for Eagle Gate. His hand shook as he marked it.

"What's the plan, Heart?" Jake asked. He'd been quiet while Kasimir was making notes, but now sat straighter in the chair and considered the map.

"Can't go west," Kasimir said, pointing to "UNNAMED".

"We could. Didn't say the Sunday shoes _were_ at Cragg's, ya know." Jake shifted his weight in the chair. "Just says I wouldn't be surprised."

"We'll assume that they are," Kasimir said. He picked up the brush again and wrote "Runners" on the east side of the map, wondering if they'd grown in size since his exile began.

"I'd fight the carnos before I tangled with the Runners," Jake muttered.

"It was an option before. Still is." Kasimir looked over his shoulder at him. "Have they gained new weapons? People? Land?"

Jake shook his head. "Dunno. Ain't like Woodsmen need ta go walkin' through Sailback shit an' check it out."

"As much as I've heard," Crazy Bones put in, quietly, "they're no stronger than they were."

Kasimir breathed out, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the map. "I need to get to this cave," he said, tapping the eastern side of the map.

"That's gonna be hell," Jake groaned. "Last I hear, Runners moved their wall back some. Ta keep Mara from knockin' it down again, ya know, that shit. But iffen they see ya down on the the beach..." He held up an imaginary crossbow, mimicking shooting him.

"It's a risk we'll have to take," Kasimir said. "If we can get to the cave, we can get equipment."

"It's gone, you know," Jake snorted. "But all right, iffen ya says so."

"I have a question," the girl announced, turning away from the doctor and staring at Kasimir. "And you said you'd explain stuff."

"Fine," he shot back. He still felt the annoyance and anger from before, toward her. He'd forgotten how much a nuisance having a tribe mate could be.

"If we can't die on the Island, at least not... _permanently,"_ she began, eyes dropping to her knees and looking chastised by his attitude, "then how come you don't come back from the towers?"

"What?" Kasimir jerked his head toward her, startled.

The girl shot a look at the Woodsman. "Jake said people don't come back from the towers."

Jake coughed, his eyes suddenly on the ceiling and arms crossed over his chest. Kasimir snapped his attention to the man, silently demanding an explanation.

"So, don't get mad at me or nothin'," Jake said, tapping his elbow agitatedly. "But I had ta tell her all that shit else she'd 'a run off and get herself eaten. Not that she didn't try anyhow."

 _"What_ shit?" Kasimir asked, narrowing his eyes.

"...Shit 'bout the towers," the man replied, hesitatingly. " 'Bout the past."

Kasimir went still, his arms and legs tensed up. Abruptly, in flurry of motion, Jake was slammed face-first into the stone wall. The chair overturned in Kasimir's hurry to assault him, a clatter and a surprised yelp and the clacking sound of Crazy Bones' crossbow being drawn back coming from behind him.

"Ain't like I was tryin' ta be an ass," Jake muffled out. Kasimir tightened his fingers on his scalp, curling his lip in anger. "That's yer job, Heart. 'Sides, like I says, she deserves ta know for bein' Iron March."

"This isn't how we treat guests in my house," Crazy Bones said. "Drop him."

Kasimir released him, slowly. The other Woodsmen, up on their feet and aiming down on him alongside Crazy Bones, lowered their weapons. "It's not yours to tell," he snapped at Jake.

"Yeah, it is." Jake rubbed his head, curling his legs under himself. "There's a _reason_ we're still around. S'our story just as much _yers."_

"I still don't get why I'm not supposed to know," the girl said, sounding irritated. "If I do or don't, it doesn't fucking matter, _does_ it?"

Jake wiped his mouth with a sleeve. "Old Heart-of-Iron is prolly embarrassed 'bout the whole thin'," he said, shooting a sly look at Kasimir. "Seein' as he never told us nothin', and went off in a huff."

Kasimir breathed out through his nose, ignoring them all. He moved away, picking out a piece of wood and poking at the fire.

Goddamn Jake Ashley. Kasimir didn't make eye contact with anyone, squinting into the firelight. The man was right, in some ways. Everything that he'd done, all those years ago, he did remember. He didn't want to. Just... _did._

He remembered everything about his plan, about the artifacts and the beacons, and he remembered that he'd failed utterly. That, in the end, he'd not been able to look past his own actions and that he―

He'd run away. Like a _coward._ Kasimir pressed his lips together, closing his eyes.

"Well, that makes a lot of sense," the girl muttered. "And here I thought he just didn't remember anything."

"Naw," Jake said, chuckling. "Heart's like an elephant. Never forgets." He picked at his fingernails, idly. "Don't know how to talk human, neither."

The girl laughed. Kasimir looked up from the fire, fixing her with a frown. She coughed to cover the laugh, looking away from him.

"So, ya gonna tell us now?" the Woodsman asked, his voice more serious than he'd ever sounded. " 'Cause I ain't fixin' to go toe to toe with them Unnamed assholes and the Shock, not without a _damned_ good reason."

Kasimir stood, strode to the door, and left the house.


	27. 44,896

Note: Taking advice, this chapter is much longer than the others. I'm also updating the genre to include drama because it's painfully obvious that I suck at action scenes.

* * *

Sammon gasped in upset, opening his eyes to a familiar sight. It wasn't for a few moments that he realized he'd appeared on the beach where he'd first come upon the Island, and that he was no longer... dead.

The feeling was jarring, that he _was_ alive.

The return to whatever Hell he'd been consigned to had been extremely unpleasant. Curiously, he was bereft of everything, renewed but vulnerable.

The same beasts as they'd seen before were about: The three-horned cattle, the bat-winged beasts, even the pathetic birds were waddling near. He rose to a stand, brushing his hands together and looking about him. The devil-woman had torn out his throat, he'd bled his life onto the wet earth, and he was again on the sands where he'd taken his first steps.

Then, he reasoned, should he make his way through the interior of the Island, he would again experience the same fear and weaknesses he had. It must be done, if he were to join with the men.

A journey he did not anticipate. He cast about the beach for a time, collecting enough to recreate crude tools. To his south one of the odd ships he recalled from his arrival was falling from the sky, suspended in a beam of red light. Sammon concealed himself in the trees, listening carefully for sharp-toothed beasts.

As the carbuncle descended, it rotated slowly. He perused it with curiosity, weaving his hands methodically through fiber and crafting a thin bow on his lap.

It hit the beach softly, without a sound. Briefly, it flashed and the gem was gone with the same rippling hexagons he'd seen in others like it.

In its place, a woman knelt onto her hands and knees, her head bowed. She stood, a low growl in her throat turning into a full-fledged scream as she threw her head back.

 _The devil-woman!_ Sammon cast the bow to the side. He drew out the rough hatchet he'd crafted, keeping his eyes on her. She'd wrought havoc on him while disabled, speaking volumes of her ability. He could not imagine if he should return again, if she were to do so once more.

The idea of feeling the chill of death, becoming again on an equally icy shore, and the fire of God that touched him in the return... Sammon watched the woman stomp down the shore and into the trees, talking to herself with exaggerated motions, her rage still festering under the spotted fair skin she sported.

She'd felt the same as he. Somehow the man she'd chased had injured her grievously, causing her death. And she had returned, just the same, to the spot he had.

He smiled to himself, seeing the advantage that could be gained, and crept through the trees after her.

* * *

"I'll go talk to him," Del said, standing up. Her shoulder panged with pain, making her wince. Did feel a hell of a lot better, though. Goose knew his stuff.

"I wouldn't advise that," Crazy Bones told her. "Give him time to think."

"No offense, but hasn't he had, like, twenty years now?" she replied. "Not to mention, you guys made it clear that the Shock are gonna come kill us any minute now. He doesn't have _time_ to think."

Jake sighed, wiping blood from his face. Kasimir's violent reaction had left him with a bloodied nose and split lip. Jake took it in stride, though. "She's right," he said, his voice low. "If Soul thinks she can talk Heart into tellin', I'm all for it."

The others looked to each other, then back to Jake and Crazy Bones. The old black man scratched at his chin, rattling his bones, and nodded. "I guess you could _try,"_ he murmured. "Though I don't think he'll ever tell us, really. Fool's dream, that one."

Del excused herself from the house, looking around the rocks and trying to see if the Shock were still parked out on the water to the east of the place. She couldn't see them in the terrible darkness, but she could smell them.

The big one with a platform on its back looked like a Komodo dragon, only with fins and a much shorter tail. It smelled like wet dog, or at least disgustingly close enough that it made her gag. There was also a creature out there that smelled like corn chips, for some ungodly reason. She didn't want the opportunity to figure out _which_.

She moved about the rocks, looking for Kasimir. Saw him finally, outlined against a lightening sky. It would be morning, soon.

Kasimir was sitting cross-legged on a stand of rocks, up high enough she wouldn't have seen him if she hadn't climbed some herself in order to look around. Del clambered up the rocks, pushing herself onto the ledge where he was sitting.

"I know you probably want left alone right now," she started, cautiously.

He muttered something, lowly. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "I'm sorry if I messed things up. _Again."_ Lowered herself to the rocks, sitting beside him.

"Stupid teenager," he said, staring out into the distance.

She flushed with guilt. Remembered the beach, her attitude. Well, both beaches, and her attitude hadn't improved at all by the second time. "I have a temper," she replied, feeling ashamed of herself. "I'm sorry. I really _am."_

Kasimir was quiet, probably lost in his own memory. Part of Del wanted to ask him, to fill the gaps of what she was told by the others. The timing wasn't right at all, though. She looked inward, for something to say to him.

Her own memories still pushed on her. The fight with her father, every time she'd been an ungrateful little shit to her parents... she'd not changed much since her arrival on the Island. Though she'd ignored them, mostly because it hurt to remember, she tried hard, now.

And with a sudden, almost painful twinge of her head, she remembered. What had happened after she broke the window.

...Drinking at the playground with her boyfriend, his laughter dampened by the rain. The awning drummed loudly above them, the air hot and sticky around them. She'd cried. Didn't want to make her dad upset. Told her boyfriend it wasn't right, her being angry at him.

She'd broken up with him because he didn't understand. He'd been angry with her, too. She'd tried to walk home alone. He'd followed in the truck. She wouldn't listen to him. He'd made her get in.

The rain was so heavy. She hadn't been able to see out of the truck's windshield. Neither had the boy.

Broken glass... _and blood._ Del paled in the pre-dawn. "Oh, my God," she whispered. _"Kasimir―"_

He turned his face toward her, the tiredness in his eyes replaced by a more understanding undertone. Let out a loud sigh, and ran a hand over his scalp. "It's better to forget," he said, a tremor in his voice the only sign of how he felt.

"...I'm _dead,_ aren't I?" she said, confused. Her heart felt like someone had suddenly squeezed it, exploding into a thousand heartbeats inside her. "Back home?"

"Yes," Kasimir answered, quietly. He looked away.

Del curled up, her knees to her chest and face buried into her skin. She felt the swell of emotion in her chest, rising past her heart, into her collarbones, finally through her throat and over her tongue―

Kasimir moved closer across the rock and put an arm around her shoulders, as she shuddered and sobbed. Without any thought, she turned herself and flung herself at him, stuffing a knuckle against her mouth and pinning her hand between herself and his chest. He made a breathy grunt, firmly rubbing his palm against her shoulder blades.

He let her cry for as long as she needed. When she managed to compose herself again, the sun was coming up and rays of light peeked through the trees across the water, crawling up the sides of the rock where they sat.

Kasimir removed his hand from her back and placed it on her shoulder, tugging her backward. "I shouldn't have been... rough, with you," he said, sounding truly sorry. "It is easy to forget how to be polite."

Del wiped her face, noticing a damp spot on his shirt where her face had been pressed. "I―" she hiccuped, "I'm not very _useful,_ am I?"

"You're young, yet," Kasimir replied. He moved her backward and away from him.

"And I'll be here forever," she whispered. Kasimir made a rumbling noise in his throat. "This is Hell, isn't it?" she asked him, her voice wobbling.

"No." He lifted a leg and placed his foot onto the rock, leaning an arm across his knee. "Hell is warmer."

Del sputtered out a laugh. "How―how do you _do_ it? How do you keep _going?"_

"Have to," Kasimir replied. He lifted his left arm, staring at his implant. He pressed his thumb against it, and the holographic display came up.

She leaned forward onto a hand, craning her neck to look at it. His name and the tribe name were in large words in the top middle.

"Kasimir _Tis―Tesvet―_?"

"Tsvetnov," he corrected her.

She could see smaller text under his name. Location, temperature... days. _Forty-four thousand, eight hundred and ninety-six days._

She almost fell over, jerking her left arm up and checking her own implant. The menus made a fizzling noise as they entwined, distortion of the projection visible in the air. Where they touched, six-sided shapes made a skeletal grid that was underneath the blue background of the menu.

Del ignored that. Her implant said 50 days. Almost two _months._ But his? She couldn't begin to comprehend how many years that _had_ to be.

"Just how long have you _really_ been here?" Del blurted out, in awe.

Kasimir shrugged his shoulder, dropping his arm from his leg and releasing the button on the implant. "Forever," he sighed.

She agreed. The idea that he was capable of living for such an absurdly long period of time, without being able to escape, was frightening. Del looked down at her hands in her lap. And she would... have to face the same.

The implication was almost too much for her. That she could learn all she needed to survive, given enough time. That there would always be enough time. And that she might die, over and over again, whenever the Island's creatures or tribes decided they wanted to kill her.

"Could we talk...?" Del released her own button. Her hands were weak and shaking, probably from the crying. Some tears still trickled down her face, unnoticed until now. "It's just―I mean―about _that."_

"Hm," he rumbled in agreement.

"Why―what―" She wracked her brain for the right way to ask. _"How come?"_ she settled, hissing the word out with the breath she'd held in.

"When you die here, you are reborn." Kasimir rubbed at his face. "It's difficult to explain."

"But how can it be the same... _you?"_ Del shifted her weight, moving onto her knees and sitting back onto her heels as she faced him directly. "Your body―"

"Is eaten, or decays." He shot her a glance, his face blank again. "Usually eaten."

She shuddered, involuntarily. Being hurt enough to die would be horrible, much less the shitty consolation prize of having a predator devour you every time.

"...And when you came back, why were you younger?" she asked.

He straightened out his back, moving both knees up and laying his arms across them. "Don't know. You live for fifty years, die, come down the light. Always what you are."

"Did everyone here..." she closed her eyes, struggling for the words. "Die, on Earth?"

"Yes."

 _"Why_ are we _here?"_ she whispered, in a barely audible voice.

"I didn't ask," he stated, flatly.

Del's eyes jerked open, staring at him. "You mean..." she glanced quickly to the right, toward the green tower in the sky that loomed over her shoulder.

Kasimir's jaw muscles worked under his skin, his teeth pressing together in his mouth. Del dropped her eyes, not wanting to stare at him for too long.

Jake and the others might be angry that she'd not convinced him to tell them the truth, but she'd pushed her luck today. She really didn't want to see his temper flare any more than she already had.

Besides, he'd told her more than enough to curb her curiosity. It was... a lot to take in. _A lot._

God, she was exhausted. In the last twenty-four hours, any sleep she'd gotten was concussion-induced or in Crazy Bones' moldy old bed.

"...So what are we going to do now?" she asked, tiredly.

"Find the cave," he said, calmly.

"And if the others don't want to come with?"

"Then I go alone," he answered.

"You mean _we,"_ she said, bluntly. "I can't exactly stay too far away."

"You won't be able to keep up," he said, a brooding look on his face.

"Fine, I'll run the whole way, or―" she frowned to herself. "Or I'll tame one of those big dinos and ride it. It can't be _that_ hard, right?"

Kasimir laughed, lightly. "Won't be easy."

"Well, I don't fucking care." Del crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "I ain't staying here with the rapey old man and Jake's hooligans."

He smiled at her, dropping his arms from his legs and pushing himself upward. She joined him, climbing down from the rocks and jumping onto the sand below them.

Kasimir stopped for a moment, staring up at the house and rubbing his eyes. "Might be a way," he said aloud, turning to face her.

"How's that?" she asked, patting one of the crested dinosaurs as she walked around it.

Kasimir motioned for her to follow him, into the house. "You can be bait," he said, calmly.

 _"What!?"_


	28. Sweet Words

Mara tightened the rope across the man's wrists, a foot pressing into his shoulder blades. He stared at her with a calm face, his cheek pressed into the sand.

She didn't like his eyes. They were strange, a deep brown that caught her like shadows in the night. That, coupled with how unperturbed he seemed, unnerved her.

"I only wish to speak with you," he said, again.

"I heard you the _first_ time," she snapped, pushing down on his back.

"We share a common enemy," he said. "A common goal."

"If you're talking about Kasimir," she growled, leaning down and flicking him in the nose, "then you'd better not get in my way. Else _you'll_ be the one I set alight."

"I do not intend to stop you," he replied, his voice still irritatingly calm.

"Speak your piece," Mara said, picking up his stone hatchet and tapping it against his temple. "My patience is limited."

"You desire revenge," he said, still staring at her.

"Hah!" she grinned, showing her teeth. "You could call it _that."_

"I wish to unite the Island." His eyes dropped to her mouth and crawled back up her face, meeting hers. "To bring every man and woman here to a greater purpose. To leave this place."

"You must be new here," Mara cackled. "Haven't you figured it out, yet? There's no fucking way _out."_

"I believe that there is." The man blinked, finally.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't know who you've been talking to," she muttered.

"He was right, you know." He adjusted his head against the sand. "About the floating stones. They are the way out."

"And how do you know that!" she snarled, pressing the hatchet into his skin. A thin line of blood snaked its way across his forehead, congealing quickly.

"His journals." His eyes burned into hers. "He wrote of you, many times."

"I don't have time to read some infatuated tripe," she growled. "Kasimir went up the mountain and came back a whole 'nother man. No one can pry what he knows, from his thick-boned skull."

"That is why I propose we join together." More blood trickled across his skin, branching and dripping onto the sand. "I seek knowledge; you wish to harm him. We may have both, if we combine our efforts."

"You've spoken. My patience is gone." Mara lifted the hatchet, pausing to savor the moment. Remembering each kill, and there had been many, was one of the few things she enjoyed about this absurd existence.

The man stared at her, unafraid. "If you must kill me," he said, evenly, "then do so."

Her hand stopped. The fact that he was not scared of her, despite every indication that she meant to kill him, was confounding. No one on this Island was not scared of her, not even Kasimir, in some way.

Mara lowered her hand. "What's your game?" she asked him, suspiciously.

"I am not playing a game," he answered. To her relief, he finally closed those strange eyes. "Everything I have said is the truth. Join with me. I will provide your people the weapons necessary to overcome this Hell, and we will escape."

She recalled the time long before, when Kasimir convinced her to work with him. How he'd walked out of the trees and into the water, swimming across the expanse without fear. She'd followed him, below the surface, watching his trek through Shock-infested waters. He'd not been afraid to take her on. And he didn't let her win, either.

Before Kasimir, the Shock were just another tribe on the Island. They'd had nothing more than what the Island provided, prizes from the smaller beacons the only reason they were able to withstand the water's danger. What had been gained through alliance with the man had been nothing short of miraculous―a use for the pearls the Shock collected, giving them value and opening new routes of trade that had been blocked.

"And _how_ are you planning to do that?"

The man opened his eyes, the corners lifting as he smiled pleasantly at her. "I will give what you need. No more of hiding at sea, raiding for supply. I will give you everything."

Mara lifted her foot from his back, brandishing the hatchet at him. "You want our pearls," she stated, suspiciously. If this man had Kasimir's journals, who knew what he could know? Not even she had read the damn things.

"That is only one reason I would join with the Shock," he replied. He lifted himself from the sand, staring at her without blinking. "What you want are weapons. Protection. Something to set you apart from the bastardized and primitive ways of this Island."

She bared her teeth at him, hissing. He'd hit another nerve with his bastard comment. "What makes you think I dislike being primitive?"

"You are a woman possessed of immense strength," he told her. "A woman who knows what she wants, and isn't afraid to seize it. This, I find, is cloyingly attractive."

"Sweet words from a dead man," Mara said. "You'd forfeit your life for this? A chance?"

"I will only return to this place, again." He breathed in, carefully. "As did you, when your quarry bested you."

She clicked her tongue at him, shaking her head. "He hasn't yet bested me in _true_ combat," she bragged. "And if I catch him again―"

"When you do, I will be there," the man stated. He kept staring at her, the interest in his eyes extremely evident.

Mara lowered her hand. There was benefit to forming new alliances. She was loathe to do so without knowing who he was, however.

"Who are you," she hissed, "who would look to me for help?"

"I am a prince of Geth," he answered. "I am called Sammon."

"And I'm a daughter of Boudica," Mara snapped back. "Who you were before, means nothing, here."

Sammon nodded, his smile disappearing. "Then, will you?"

She agreed, tacitly.

 _Let's us all go to war, once more._

Mara grinned.

* * *

The Shock left the mouth of the river after about half an hour, slowly descending into the water and swimming away without any explanation. Everyone was surprised, but none so more than Jake. He'd been so sure they would try something. He wondered if they were honoring the Island-wide agreement, allowing for resource swapping at designated safe places. If that was the reason they left, it was understandable. The Shock needed resources from land more than others might, being entirely sea-going people.

 _Don't shit where ya eat,_ he thought to himself.

But then, he figured, it was probably worse that they'd gone off without a word. Didn't bode well―if Heart killed Mara like he'd said, she'd only pull her tribe away from the place she knew him to be because she intended to do some fuckery on him later.

He didn't like it. Didn't like the new plan, _either._

"Why I gotta be tied, I ain't even―" Jake pouted, staring at the two Iron Marchers as they discussed the plan. As if he'd agreed to it already, even.

Soul-of-Iron glanced at him, crooking up a corner of her mouth. "What, remind you of something?" she asked, innocently.

"Oh, now I know yer messin' with me," he sulked.

"Do you want your guns or _not?"_ she asked, seriously.

"I need access to equipment," Heart said, again. "Willow Tree won't give it."

"Yeah, _but―"_ Jake crossed his arms over his chest. "I ain't likin' how come we gotta feed me to the Sailbacks."

Crazy Bones, who had been leaning over a box and digging through the contents while muttering under his breath, stood up abruptly. "I found it."

Jake leaned back in his chair, putting a foot up on the table and pushing himself back and forth. Crazy Bones pulled out a pair of handcuffs, worn-looking things. Jake's eyes moved over the bar in the middle. _"Naw,"_ he said, huffing out a breath. "I ain't doin' it."

Heart lifted the gun he'd retrieved from Mara―and she from another person who'd been in the forest. That whole scene had been something confusing. Jake watched him turn the gun around and hold it out to him, pushing it forward at him when he didn't take the bait.

"Naw," he said, again. "I done told ya Matus survived them assholes. He'll do ta me what Mara did ta ya."

"Are you scared?" Soul asked, still feigning innocence.

"Shut it," Jake snapped back at her, then looked down when she shot him an astonished look. "I _ain't_ scared. The Sailbacks don't never like us Woodsmen. They got their bigs and we got good at killin' 'em. Been like that since they started roamin' the river."

"Sailbacks won't be a problem," Heart said, pulling the gun back to himself. He gestured to Soul. "She'll show them the guns. Ask Matus for a truce. If she returns to us―"

"I'm still not likin' that _if,"_ Soul whined, adopting Jake's accent. He scoffed at her.

"―then we go in, I make guns. You'll get yours," Heart finished. "You're only a surety. A promise to them."

"A fuckin' dino treat," Jake replied. "Matus might let his goddamn spino _eat_ me."

"That's why I'm coming with," Soul put in. "Kasimir thinks I'm good at convincing people, or something. So I get to talk them outta hurting you."

"How I gonna get out?" Jake grumbled. "They ain't like to release a prisoner."

Heart tapped the barrel of his gun against the table. "Bargaining. No guns until you're out."

"And if that don't work?"

Soul coughed. "We start a war," she said. Jake's head jerked upward, quickly. She returned his gaze, sheepishly. "I mean... we get a spino to chase us down toward the Runners. Scream for help. While they're dealing with that, Kasimir and Crazy Bones can go to the cave. Cocha and Kim will get you out."

Jake stared, unblinkingly, at the woman for a long time before shaking his head slowly. A smile came across his face, disbelieving her. "Ya come up with that on yer own?" he asked, not sure if he should admire or be terrified of the idea.

"Most of it. Cocha suggested some." Soul shot a glance at the woman, who was leaning against the back wall and feeding several compys small bits of meat.

"And ya'll think this'll work?" Jake put his arms up over his head and locked his fingers behind his head, staring at Soul-of-Iron.

"It'll just be you and me," Soul said, smiling sincerely as she looked back. "Taking a walk in the woods. It sounds like _fun."_

Jake opened his mouth, grinning at her. Always was a sucker for a pretty face. "Yeah, alright. I'm all for stickin' shit to the Sailbacks."

Heart muttered something, making Soul jerk her head toward him with a sudden frown. "You're going to have to stay back for a while," she said. "That's the plan, you said."

Heart turned away, shaking his head. Soul rolled her eyes at him and put her hands on her hips. "Anyways," she told Jake, "I gotta put the cuffs on you and take you to Riverbend."

"Yeah, we'll do that later on," he said, dropping his feet to the floor and lowering his hands to his lap. "So, when we startin' this dance?"

"Now is as good a time as any," she replied.

He bet he'd get his ass kicked anyway, putting his trust in her. _Well..._ Jake sighed, rubbing his split lip, and lazily rose from his chair.

At least he had experience getting fucked over by broads.


	29. Strongman

He could hear her tramping through the trees behind him, not caring a lick for how much sound she was making. He put a hand over his eyes, scanning through the brush, and held up the other.

Soul stopped with a thrashing sound, her feet still moving on the ground as she turned around. She had her pistol up and was looking around at the tops of the trees. Like an idiot, she was looking for the bigs and not the real danger.

Jake moved across the ground, noiselessly, and pushed down her hands. "Ya make as much noise as the _bigs,_ walkin' like that," he told her.

"I haven't had time to learn how not to," she hissed back, shooting daggers at him with her eyes.

"Ya gotta practice, is all," he replied, and motioned her to follow him. "At least, for now, anyone 'round is gonna think yer a big."

He wasn't worried about the bigs. He could see 'em coming. In the forest, especially with all the trees, it was better to stay low and keep out of sight, but even that wouldn't stop a raptor from barreling down on them. Maybe luckily, the new tribe seemed to be keeping the number of creatures down.

If they did run into trouble, he had Heart's gun. Jake could feel the fabricated pistol in his waistband, tucked in and hidden away under his leather shirt. Much as Heart had helped in the past, he was going all out now. That wasn't a good thing, either, seeing as the reason why also took out most of the Woodsmen and Sailbacks.

He remembered. Fire and blood and carnage, carnos biting into the trees and raptors sweeping up the leftovers. Even if you hid, they'd find you. Only reason he'd gotten away with his group was thanks to Célise, doing what she was supposed to do as their leader and getting herself captured as a result.

Capture was inevitable. Happened all the time, back when. His gunners got knocked out of the trees, tossed in cages and forced to eat that green goop Willow Tree was so goddamn good at making. Kept you asleep. Couldn't fight 'em off.

Jake loosed a tense breath, remembering the goal of his being served on a platter to the Sailbacks. _Get me a sniper rifle,_ he thought, _I'll have twenty assholes come down the light in a minute flat._ And if he could spring Célise, too...

Jake smiled to himself, grimly. Hopefully the old woman wasn't too exhausted from whatever treatment the Unnamed bastards were giving her, to fight her way out. Having her at their side again would be a blessing.

Soul stopped, suddenly. She went utterly still, her breathing the loudest thing he could hear over the sounds of the forest. Jake glanced at her, saw her eyes open wide and a look of paranoia coming over her face.

"Did you hear that?" she whispered.

He must've missed something. Cast about for a possible source, his head turning slowly. Nothing that he could tell. Maybe she was just spooked.

"Naw," he said. "Keep moving."

After a time of walking carefully through the trees, Jake stopped her again, and motioned ahead of them. "This is it," he said, quietly. "Up ahead is the river. We go across it, we'll be in Sailback land. Might be Unnamed, now."

"So we gotta watch out for spinos, carnos, _and_ raptors?" she asked him.

He hadn't figured she'd picked up all of that, but either way. "Yeah, prolly," he muttered. "Ya remember the call?"

Soul made a high-pitched whistle that dropped and rose several octaves. Jake nodded at her. "Right. Get hid iffen ya gotta." He held out his hands and waited for her to put the handcuffs on him.

Soul fiddled with the metal, clicking it over his wrists tightly. He remembered being in irons, before. Back home, he'd got caught about half a dozen times. Never for nothing too bad, though. Nothing like this shit.

"I forgot to get the gun off you," she said, holding out a palm.

Jake grinned, unashamedly. He lifted up his hands and tilted his hip at her. "Come get it."

"I'm not falling for that," Soul said, crossing her arms over her chest and fixing him with a glare.

"Look, babe, I'd love ta hand it over, but ya got me shackled already and I can't 'zactly get it _myself."_ Jake thrust his hip out further, still grinning.

She stared at him with a stupid look on her face for a long time. Eventually, she reached out to grab the gun from his waist. Movement in the bushes behind her caught his attention.

His grin disappeared. Whatever it was, he wasn't about to take any chances―

Jake lowered his arms over her head, trapping and pulling her in a spinning motion. Put himself between whatever was in the bushes and her. A faint smell rose from her ponytail as it whipped around, hitting his nose.

Reminded him of _home._ She smelled like orchids. Jake took a deep breath and sighed.

Soul squawked out a curse. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"...Close yer head, ya idiot," he muttered, turning his head away from her hair. "Somethin's out there, watchin' us."

"Sailbacks?" she whispered, her voice taking on fright.

"Naw," Jake replied. He could feel her wiggling under his arms, pinned against his chest and flush to him. Smiled at her, ruefully. "Sailbacks make as much noise as ya do."

She went still, glaring at him. "If this is some stupid attempt to―"

"Naw," he said again, this time much more seriously. "I ain't the type to joke like that."

In his head, he went over what he'd been told about the Unnamed tribe. The initial attack, according to Cocha, had been straightforward. There was nothing but the ordinary hubbub in the trees, animals chasing one another through the bushes and so on.

Then the treeline exploded in a line of carnos, raptors at their feet, and the smell of gunpowder in the air was overwhelming. Cocha held her spot in her tree until a carno got close enough to slam into it, and she was forced to flee deeper into Woodsmen land.

Ambush. Something the Unnamed knew how to do, despite having so many bigs at their back. Jake squeezed Soul to himself, sighing as he lowered his mouth to her ear. "It don't matter who they are. Matters they're hidin'."

"If they saw me putting the cuffs on, they could ruin our plan," she murmured, in a hushed voice. "We gotta do something."

"Yeah," he muttered. "I know."

Soul moved her hands around her side, reaching for her pistol. "Don't do it, Soul," Jake said, emphatically. Really wished he wasn't tied, right now. She was bound to do something so stupid they'd both get it worse.

Soul's hand inched for her pistol, her knuckles scraping across his stomach. Jake sighed through his nose and pushed her back across the ground, awkwardly. "I says, _don't,"_ he hissed at her, breathing into her ear.

"Well, what are you gonna do?" she huffed, impatiently.

"I'm gonna move my arms," he said, his voice as low as he could get it. "An' we'll make a break for the river. Get across it, there's a cave up there we can hide in."

"Are you even sure someone is there?" she asked, her voice loud in his ear.

"Ya gotta trust me," he murmured, and lifted his arms with a jerk. Soul turned and ran, feet pummeling bushes and arms pushing aside branches. Jake was a few steps behind her, pulling his hands up and tucking them into his chest as he tried to balance himself. _Fucking handcuffs._

Something punched into his lower back as he ran. Prolly a spear, he thought. Jake sucked air into his lungs and ignored the awful feeling just above his ass, a throbbing pain running down his leg as his feet pounded sand and water.

Soul looked back, and started to slow down―

"Keep runnin', stupid!" he hollered, splashing through the river with the weapon waggling behind him like a dog's tail. _Definitely_ a spear.

 _Mighta been funny_ , he thought to himself. If it wasn't _his_ ass, maybe. He strained out a high-pitched chuckle.

"Where's the cave?!" she shouted back, moving further into the trees but still slowed.

"Ya'll see it, keep fuckin' runnin'!" He groaned when a branch snapped back and hit him in the face, hitting him in the nose. _I knew it,_ he told himself. _I fuckin' knew it. I'm gettin' my ass handed ta me again. Broads!_

The sound of creatures being disturbed behind them were the only indication that they were being pursued. Jake could see the rocks outlining the cave entrance coming up, whooping at Soul to tell her to look. She slid on the wet leaves around the entrance, grabbing at a rock to catch herself but still falling onto her side. Jake heard her shriek something nasty.

He turned to the side and caught himself on the same rocks, climbing up into the entrance and calling for her to follow. Soul shot a look back into the forest once, hesitating, then followed him inside.

* * *

"Well, this is just fucking _great,"_ she hissed. "Trapped in a cave with no way out." A torch flared into life, outlining their faces eerily.

Jake leaned against a rock, trying to keep weight off his injured side. "Ya should be so lucky," he groaned. "Least ya don't got 'nother hole in yer ass."

"Are you sure they aren't Sailbacks?" she asked, looking worried.

"Sailbacks don't hide," he said, shifting his weight again.

"So who was it?"

Jake took a breath, slowly releasing it. The pain in his side was slowly turning into agony. When she'd removed the spear for him she hadn't been at all nice about it, and now he couldn't feel his left foot and ankle.

He stared up at Soul, who was pacing back and forth on the rock floor, and wiped sweat from his face. _Christ,_ but it was chilly in the hole. But then, he figured half his shaking was 'cause of the fist-sized hole in his back.

"Prolly Stalkers," he said, shrugging a shoulder.

 _"Probably?"_ She threw up a hand. "Probably isn't helping, Jake―"

"Hey, I got chivved, least ya could do is give me a _fuckin' break!_ " he snapped back, agitated.

She stopped jawing on, staring at him in surprise. Jake moved his left foot out, groaning loudly. "Listen, Soul, ya gotta 'member I ain't some strongman like Heart," he mumbled, grabbing at his knee. The numbness was moving up along his shin, now. _Fuck!_

"I'm sorry, Jake," she said. Damned if she didn't sound it, too. He looked off into the darkness, listening to the dripping of water through the rocks and hoping they could avoid attention.

He couldn't even think about what lurked back there, without his skin crawling. He turned his attention back on Soul. "Okay, babe, this is the lay. I can't walk right now." She stared at him, a concerned look on her face. "I dunno, my leg's gone. I'm gonna need ya to help me out."

"Won't they still be out there, waiting?"

"Whatever's out there, Heart and the guys can deal with it." He put both hands onto the rock and pushed up, aiming to seat himself on it. "Ya know when he's 'round, ya tell me if he's too far out."

"...You're _right,"_ she said, dropping a hand from her face where she'd been rubbing her temple. "So what are we going to do?"

"Them bushes over there," he said, weakly motioning with his hands. Put them back on the rock, lifting himself off the surface. That was a bad idea, sitting down. The numbness had crawled up over his knee. "See if they got narcoberries."

"Which ones are narcoberries?"

Jake sputtered out a laugh. "God's _sake,_ woman!" She really _was_ brand-new, fuck him.

"I'm trying to help you, asshole," she shot back.

"The darkest ones. Bring me as many as you can." Jake closed his eyes, suppressing a moan as the pain in his guts increased. He was willing to bet there was blood flooding his insides, by now.

"But those put you to sleep," she said, looking worried.

 _"Yeah,"_ he told her. His voice sounded different, even to him. Pain was almost too much.

She musta heard it, too, because she immediately went over and started pulling berries off the bushes, her torch bobbing up and down as she moved. Jake breathed as evenly as he could, balancing himself on the rocks painfully. Soul returned, holding her shirt up as a makeshift basket.

She laid the torch down and sorted through the berries, tossing the ones she didn't want. In the end she had about three handfuls of narcoberries, their juices staining her shirt a deep purple.

"What are you going to do with these?" she asked Jake.

"Take the gun," he told her. "It's got ten bullets. I'm gonna eat these things, then I'm gonna pass out."

"But―" she moved back as he reached out for the pile of berries in her shirt.

"In case ya didn't notice, babe, we're in a cave." He couldn't feel his ass now, the odd clash of numbness and ache disturbingly awful in its own right. "Cave means all kinda nasty shit, but mostly spiders. _And_ _I don't like spiders."_ The last words were enunciated as best he could, trying to put the point across her.

"But why the berries?" she asked, her voice rising in pitch and a small undertone of terror floating under it.

"I ain't gonna be walkin' outta here, now am I?" he asked, carefully.

"Yeah, but―" She put a hand to her mouth, almost dropping the narcos from her shirt. _"No,_ Jake―"

"Either ya can do me the _pleasure_ of drillin' my head, or ya can let me dope myself so's I don't feel when the spiders come buzzin'." She had to understand. He'd be back, soon enough. He was reasonably sure he'd come down the light near to the old guard post, or somewhere there about.

Worse come to worst, he'd get killed a couple times trying to make his way back north. He was guaranteed to die now, what with the feeling in his gut and the numbness creeping up his leg.

"I―" She looked stricken in the torchlight, her face contorting.

"It's not forever, 'member?" he asked her, feeling a little better. Soul actually _cared_ if he was about to die. That made his head swell up like a balloon. Felt proud of hisself, made her a friend at least.

"I remember." She breathed out, swallowing hard. "What do I do, after you pass out?"

"Take the gun. See if ya can―" he gagged a little, spitting up something dark and nasty-tasting. Started feeling lightheaded, too. "See if ya can draw 'em in here, let 'em finish me off. If the spiders don't come first."

"I _really_ don't like this plan," she said. Her hands started shaking on the hem of her shirt, fingers tightening on the rough fabric.

"I ain't a fan, neither," he chuckled, and suddenly vomited. The bloody mess dripped over his chin and onto his chest. "Jesus _Christ,_ Del, help me _out,_ here," he added, his voice nearly dying in his throat.

She took a deep breath, grabbing a handful of berries. Shoved the mess into his face, pinching his nose and covering his mouth and forcing him to swallow or suffocate.

"Ya _bitch―"_ and again, and once more, and he started feeling even more dizzy, but at least it was the sleepy kind. He slid down onto the rock, lying on it on his side, trying to fight off the sleep long enough to tell her one last thing.

"Find Heart," he said, before he passed out onto the rock.


	30. Marchin' Orders

"I've changed my mind," Crazy Bones said, staring through a spyglass into the distance. "Every plan she touches is ruined. You can keep her."

The old black man had been watching the river, waiting to see if Jake and the girl crossed it. They had been following carefully, along the border between Sailback and Runner territory. On foot, a man couldn't hope to outrun the Sailback's beasts, but he could deter their attention by ducking into Runner land.

Kasimir sighed out through his nose, painfully aware of the girl's unlucky nature. Or was it just her own luck, damning everyone around her to misfortune? She'd survived more experiences than most newcomers to the Island, in the few weeks she'd been there.

One of the Woodsmen swore, quietly. Kasimir couldn't tell where they were hiding, but he knew they were trailing along behind the two men. He somehow doubted that they would be satisfied with what was going on.

Not one of them didn't understand that this plan was the best they had, in the time they'd been given. There had been relative safety at the trading post, until the Shock left; everything was now uncertainty.

"Jake died," Cocha said, crouch-walking out of the bushes in front of Kasimir. To his chagrin, he was startled by the woman. Her sudden appearance made his heart beat a little too fast for his own comfort. He casually ignored her, but took a deep and calming breath.

"Such is life," Crazy Bones muttered, lowering the spyglass. He looked over to her. "What to do?"

Cocha clicked her tongue, looking pensive. For a long moment, she was quiet, her eyes seeing through everything around her with a glazed look. "Sheba!" she whispered, harshly.

The compy appeared just as unexpectedly, jumping out of cover and mounting a rock. She tilted her head and stared at the trio, trilling questioningly.

"Marchin' orders," Cocha said, in an excellent imitation of Jake's mannerisms. Kasimir watched as the compy bobbed her head twice, then let out a shrill sound, drawing a small flood of her kin from the bushes. They streamed out and around the men, rallying under Sheba. She made a short "speech" and vanished. The rest followed her, gone with the smallest of rustles.

Cocha turned back to the two. "Jake's army," she said, flatly. "The girl..." She shrugged.

Kasimir nodded. "Let's move," he said to Crazy Bones.

"Aye, _aye_ ," the old man said, groaning as he shifted his weight.

* * *

Twitch and Lora waited outside the cave, watching the entrance. Laid on the ground, still as death, their bodies concealed with ghillie suits, waiting for their quarry to leave the underground.

Twitch wasn't about to go in no cave. Even if the bitch and her friend did get eaten by bats or some shit, it was easier to track them down over land. _Besides―_

He had a beef with the woman. She'd left him on the ground, the sword in his stomach, in pain and didn't even have the fucking _grace_ to put him down properly. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd died like such a little bitch.

 _Fuck_ her, and fuck her good. She'd get her comeuppance. Wasn't gonna get away with that kinda shit, no way, not on his watch.

Lora was more careful, wondered why the bitch was travelling with some asshole who wasn't Heart-of-Iron. How come she was working with―well, Twitch's eyesight was pretty damn good and he could swear it was that _motherfucker_ Jake Ashley.

"Our fucking luck," she'd said, "he'll pick us off from the shadows. Isn't worth the trouble."

Twitch didn't care about that. The bitch was going down. He was gonna _murder_ her ass, but only after he spent a long time hurting her and hurting her good.

He'd gotten Jake Ashley in the back with a spear. Stuck him good, doomed his ass to die and not slowly, _hah!_ Loved doing that. Even if they weren't paid to do this shit, he would.

The pay was just icing on the cake.

Maybe his single-mindedness was what stopped him seeing the danger before it showed. Lora made a wet chuffing noise, like she was coughing, half-formed words spluttering from her throat. Twitch turned to glare at her, but the sight that came was something he probably should have expected―

Too many compys to count were tearing at her, tiny bites over her whole body bleeding profusely. Several of the goddamn things were hanging from her head and neck, her frantic hands pulling them off only for the empty spot to be taken by yet another. Twitch flipped onto his back and lifted his spear, pushing himself backward with his feet and jabbing at the fucking things.

Two compys grabbed at his hand, sharp teeth cutting down to the bone. Twitch shouted a curse and rolled over onto his stomach, trying to crush them, dropping his spear to the side―

Fucked up his hand, couldn't move his fingers, _fuck!_ He gritted his teeth as the compys squirmed under him, moving his arms up to protect his neck and head. Lora wasn't making noise no more.

The horde of dinos swarmed over him, biting him repeatedly. Twitch rolled back and forth, shaking them off as he moved. Blood cast in all directions from his hands, showering the trees and brush around them.

He hissed out in rage, opening his eyes just long enough to notice a bright yellow blur―a compy was staring at him, cooing at the others as if it was―

Fucking _encouraging_ them. The spite he saw in the fucking thing's beady and glittering eyes was enough to spur him into action―revenge, at least, if it was the last thing he'd do right then―

He lunged to the side and grabbed up the yellow compy, his good hand closing around its neck and squeezing. It made a strangled squawk, alarmed and thrashing under his grip.

The rest let off their attack, retreating to a healthy distance and hooting in distress. Twitch grinned, staring at them, blood-soaked and panting with exertion. "This your boss?" he asked, tightening his hand on the compy's neck. It squawked again, pathetically.

The compys kept up their racket, bouncing around on the ground and over each other, darting forward and then running back into the pack. Twitch laughed, headily. He'd never seen something so fucking _ridiculous―_

A sharp tap on his shoulder brought his head around to his bad side. He exhaled, a sharp sensation puncturing through his lower body and up into his chest.

"That's no way ta treat a _lady,"_ Jake Ashley said, twisting the spear into his ribcage.

* * *

Del exited the cave quickly, the fabricated pistol up and shaking as she made her way over the rocks. Her breathing was shallow and panicked, and probably too loud. Jake would have gotten on her about that, if he were...

She took a deep breath, trying to put the image of his gore-covered body lying on the cold cavern floor out of her mind. She hadn't even been able to look at him when she'd placed the pistol to his head _and―_

Her ears still rang from the loudness. It wasn't enough to cover the slithering noises that came from the darkness. Her feet never moved so damn fast, getting out of there.

She really didn't like spiders, _either._

"Find Heart," he'd said. But where in the hell was Kasimir? How was she going to be able to find him, even? He had to be nearby, she couldn't feel the buzzing in her head... and whoever stuck Jake with the spear was still out there―

She didn't have time for piffle thought. Del's feet hit the soft dirt around the cave, aiming herself north and away from the river they'd crossed. Was it north? Hell if she knew―

She ran for as long as she could without wobbling, until she felt the rattle in her brain start again and the blood in her ears combined with the ringing from the gun report made her deaf.

The ground shook under her, a loud growling noise coming from the forest around her. Del sank to her knees, fighting to catch her breath, as the trees exploded into a whirlwind of splinters and scaly skin―

She tossed the gun away, flinging her arms up around her head and shrieking. Her eyes jammed shut against the flying debris, her body bowed and forehead slamming into the ground. The creature roared powerfully, whipping leaves and spittle over her.

Del was shaken to her core, her stomach dropping into her feet and a pitiful sound escaping her. Something warm and wet seeped through her clothing and toward her knees. She sobbed.

She was going to _die―!_

The dinosaur's nose grew closer to her, snuffling hot breath into her ears. She gagged at the overwhelming smell of rotting fish coming from its mouth. Her stomach made a pole vault from her feet and into her mouth, the biting taste of her stomach acid filling her head. She swallowed, uselessly.

With a tug and a gruff sound, the jaws of the thing clamped around her middle. Del shrieked again, flailing out an arm and smacking it in the nostril―her face was coated in slimy mucus as the creature snorted at her indignantly.

 _"Viktor!"_ a man commanded. "Drop it."

The dinosaur opened its mouth and Del rolled across the rows of sharp teeth, pricking her across her chest, before she hit the ground with an indelicate thump. She whimpered, staying limp where she landed.

The man spoke in quiet words to the dinosaur, for a time. It stomped its feet and shook the ground, making so much noise she was sure she'd go deaf for good. She didn't even have the energy to plug her ears, only lying slumped and covered in snot and frightened out of her mind.

The man moved across the ground to her, putting a foot onto her side and pushing her onto her back. Booted feet stepped onto her wrists. She heard the crackling distortion of her implant activating, and a biting pain at her throat.

A hissing intake of breath startled her, but no more than the sharp sound of the slide on the fabricated pistol being pulled back.

"Get off," Jake said, "else I'll be puttin' a hole in ya."

The man standing over her laughed. "I should've guessed," he replied, his voice implausibly deep. "You do realize Viktor is nearby, Ashley?"

"Already died once today," Jake breathed, annoyed. "Ain't no skin off my nose ta do it _'gain._ Get off her, Matus."

"And if I don't?" Matus answered. The point of whatever weapon he had at her throat pressed into her, almost unbearably. Del fought to stay still, especially with the rattling that grew even more painful inside her skull―

"Then I shoot ya, an' Viktor eats me an' the girl, an' we come down the light." Jake's voice was calm, but the tone under it told Del he was serious. What little flicker of hope had lit inside was blown out by his words.

She pushed down a moan. Kept her eyes shut and hoped the man standing atop her would think she was unconscious, and not a threat. Tried to remember what death felt like. Didn't want to. Just _did._

Matus chuckled, dryly. "And if I do?"

"Ya get off the girl, ya makes nice with her, ya get what ya wanted." Jake took a step forward, his feet crunching on dry leaves. Del's head ached in pain at the simple sound.

"And what, pray tell, do I want?" Matus asked, his voice even.

"Yer starin' _right_ _at it,_ ya fuckin' bohunk," Jake snapped back.

An eternity passed before the pressure on her right arm grew stronger, and both feet moved from her wrists. "You make a somewhat persuasive argument, Ashley."

The point at her throat let off. Del hazarded opening her eyes by a crack. The snot on her face was starting to harden, making it difficult. She didn't want to imagine what she looked like, right now.

She could see Jake holding the fabricated pistol on a black-haired and extremely tall man. Jake himself was only an inch or two above her, but Matus towered over them both. Had a body shape like some kind of buff superhero, looking like his biceps wanted to burst out of his shining metal armor. The long spear he carried gleamed in the sun, blindingly.

Del rolled over onto her side, pushing herself up onto an elbow, and threw up onto the ground. Her head swam with dizziness, from the chaos of being grabbed by the dinosaur and her head screaming at her that Kasimir was too far away.

"How on _Earth_ did you manage to acquire a pistol?" Matus asked, behind her.

Something made a clicking noise. Del shot a glance back at Jake and jumped in surprise as Sheba sprung toward her. She smiled painfully at the compy, putting both elbows on the ground and pushing herself upward.

"The old man," Jake replied.

"Then the Unnamed came for him, as well." Matus placed the tip of his weapon into the ground and crossed an ankle over the other, leaning onto it. "I should have expected the coward would only move if his life were in danger." He turned his head to stare at Del, eyes hard on hers. "And this one?"

Del stumbled across the ground with Sheba peeping concernedly at her feet, holding one hand at her temple. Tried to ignore the daggers being glared at her.

The Sailback on the beach had said Kasimir would die, when he saw them again. Maybe that extended to her, too. And maybe that was why Matus was giving her a death stare.

...She _hoped_ not.

Jake ignored the question. "You bitin' or not, Matus?"

The Sailback man considered the two of them, uncrossing his legs and shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I don't see why I should," he said, pulling his weapon from the ground. "It seems you aren't being truthful with me."

"Ain't in my nature," Jake replied. He shot a look to the right, watching Del move behind him.

She wiped her face with her shirt, smearing it with narcoberry juice and snot. Let out a shaky breath, pushing a sticky strand of hair out of her face. "Too far away," she mumbled at Jake, who sucked at his teeth dejectedly. The air around them grew tense.

Finally, Jake lowered his hand and tossed the pistol to the ground. _"Fine._ I'll give," he said, holding up his hands in surrender.

Matus' eyes lit up with interest at the gesture. He gave Del another hard stare for a full minute, as if he were trying to figure her out, before slowly nodding.

"...Very well. Consider yourselves prisoners."


	31. Give Up

"Just who _are_ you?"

Del looked up from her hands, which were shaking in her lap. The pain in her head hadn't stopped sounding off―but it really couldn't get much worse, she supposed. She was starting to see double, as if her eyes were permanently crossed.

Matus sat across from her, his feet tucked under him and back as straight as a board. The stone floor of his home was cold, but the campfire between them was slowly warming it. Del stared back at him, trying to will the pain away.

Jake told her, before they were separated, not to say anything to the Sailback leader. That anything she did say would only make their situation ten times worse. Never mind that the plan had been for her to seek a truce with him―that plan was over and done with, now.

And she didn't really _feel_ like talking.

She was worried about Jake, though. He'd volunteered them to be caught, something that he'd seemed unwilling to do even after she'd teased him and bought his cooperation. He shouldn't have given himself up like he had, except―

It was obvious that Kasimir had abandoned them to the Sailbacks. She understood what he'd meant when he'd told her she could be bait, because he'd intended for her to be taken prisoner by Matus. Why he would want that to happen, she didn't understand. Didn't seem like her being here was going to do anyone any good, especially not if he really did need their smithies and other equipment.

He must have wanted her out of the way, somewhere she couldn't cause him trouble. Her face burned at the thought. He thought her being captured was preferable to her hiding out somewhere with Jake or the others... and he wasn't _wrong._ Last time―she'd fucked the situation royally.

"You're new to the Island," Matus continued, when she didn't reply. He leaned forward, laying his elbows on his thighs. "Your implant tells me that you've joined the coward's tribe, but I'm at a loss to understand why. Or how the Iron March still exists, given his past."

Del opened and closed her mouth, dropping her eyes back to her hands. What thoughts she could gather, apart from the pain that rocketed from temple to temple, were telling her to listen to Jake. To not say anything, and hope they could make it out of this mess alive.

Jake and Sheba had been taken off as soon as they'd approached the riverside camp, a pleasant-looking place with fenced yards and stone homes. The whole of it reminded her of her grandparent's retirement home. Two- and three-story buildings, set only a few feet apart from one another, and an enormous paddock further into the trees. Viktor was the only spinosaur in sight, his red sail lit up by the sun like it was on fire.

There were even people tending small garden plots, that she could imagine wearing sunhats and floppy-fingered gloves. Del felt the twinge of ache in her heart, remembering her grandmother making sun tea on her porch and her grandfather's tall tales.

She missed them. She missed _everyone._

"Ashley warned you, then." Matus leaned backward, considering her with a scrutinizing look. "Not to say a word, yes? I suppose he told you how treacherous I can be."

Del still didn't answer. Jake hadn't mentioned anything about Matus being so, nor had he said anything other than telling her not to speak. She didn't know what to make of the man other than her own first impression.

...It wasn't exactly _favorable,_ really.

"That you would put stock in the words of an admitted liar, I am surprised." Matus moved to turn the meat on the fire, finally dropping his eyes from hers. "This tactic won't hold forever, of course. You will, eventually, need to ask permission to take a piss."

Del snorted, the sheepish smile coming across her face feeling like a betrayal. Something as silly as that, the reason she'd need to break her silence... and he had a point. Her bladder was already giving her warning signals. She'd peed herself once today, and doing so again because of her own stubbornness would be twice as embarrassing.

"There, you see?" he smiled back at her, his face transforming from deadly serious into a more pleasant one. "Now, I have only a want for answers, not to harm you. Should I have wanted that, I would have let Viktor eat you."

"And Jake?" she asked, her voice shaking. It was pointless to keep quiet, she supposed. Matus would only fill the silence with his own words, words that she felt confusing.

"Mr. Ashley and I are well-acquainted," Matus said, pulling away from the fire. "He is an enemy of the Sailbacks, and I cannot guarantee he won't be... _castigated."_

Del wasn't sure what that implied, but she got the feeling it probably meant Jake would get tortured or something. With the day they'd already had, it was almost guaranteed he would die again. Or worse.

She still felt terrible for what had happened in the cave. If she could prevent it happening, again...

"Let's make a deal," she told Matus. "You let Jake leave, take Sheba with him. I'll answer what I can."

"Wouldn't that offer be more useful in aiding your own egress?" the man asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

"I was supposed to come here, anyway." Del wiped her eyes, watering in pain. "Jake was helping me, though he figured he'd get caught."

Matus hesitated, tensely. "And your terms?"

"Like I said. Let Jake take Sheba and leave. I'll stay."

The Sailback man stared at her for a moment, as if he didn't understand what she was saying. "I suppose that cannot be helped," he murmured, dropping his eyes to the fire. "Ashley is of no value to me, at this moment."

Del was grateful for that. _If anything,_ she told herself, _Jake can get to the others and let them know what's going on._

And maybe then... she wiped her eyes again. _Maybe then, they can come up with a better plan than this one._

"My first query is why on Earth you'd allow yourself to be kept in place of that peasant." The Sailback man stared at her across the fire again, his expression curious. "It certainly cannot be for altruistic purpose."

"Is it so surprising that someone would take the hit for him?" Del shot back.

"When one is talking of Jake Ashley, yes." Matus' teeth shined when he grinned, reflecting back the firelight. Del was suddenly reminded of Mara's sharp-toothed and bloody face.

A predator. That was what it brought to mind; a person who preyed on others, without caring about their intentions or whether they were friendly. Even if she believed that he would agree to a truce, she needed to be wary of this man.

Jake had been right. She shouldn't have said anything. Del sighed internally. It was too late to take that back, now.

"I owe him," she said, simply. "That's all."

"If that is how the newest Iron Marcher repays debts, I would be glad to be in error." He pulled the meat from the fire, testing it for temperature, and took a large bite. "You may eat," he said, through a mouthful.

She was hungry. The fish steaks over the fire were sorely tempting, watery run-off hissing as it dripped into the flames. Del reached forward and slid one from its stake, blowing cautiously on the soft meat.

"How is Heart-of-Iron?" Matus asked, once he'd wolfed down his own food. "I've not seen him in years."

"As cranky and difficult as he was, I guess," she replied.

Matus laughed, easily. "Quite. Cranky is certainly how I recall him." He ran a hand over his thin beard, turning his eyes away for a moment. "Why were you to come here, then? I know Heart-of-Iron would be loathe to request help, unless he _truly_ needed it."

"He does," Del answered. "So do the Woodsmen and Sailbacks, if I'm reading the situation right."

"Proactive treatment of the situation is as unlikely for him as Ashley not lying," Matus mused. "The Unnamed?"

Del shrugged, chewing slowly. Every time her jaw muscles moved, a wave of pain swam through her forehead. She closed her eyes and willed herself to eat faster.

"What is your assessment of the Island, then?"

She sighed. "We're _fucked."_

Matus chuckled. "An apt, if somewhat crude, description. No, moreso, I meant what do you take away from our situation? Are we able to fight against this tide, to prevent the Unnamed from having the upper hand? Or are we doomed to fold?"

Del opened her eyes and stared at him, tiredly. Matus' dark eyes glinted with interest. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she found his mannerisms were grating her nerves. In the opposite of Kasimir's silence, the words that never stopped coming were frustrating.

"Where the river goes, I follow," she said. Her grandfather had always said that. She expected he'd meant that one had to roll with the punches.

"Then you have no opinion." Matus shook his head at her. "A decidedly poor stance to take, in such times as we experience."

"I've only been on the Island for a few months," she said. "I've been lied to, made fun of, physically attacked, and used as bait. I stand by my assessment."

"Perhaps you are wiser than I had thought," he replied. "Though not by much."

"I'm _stupid,_ you mean." She glared at him as best she could.

"Do not mistake my candor for insult." Matus didn't react to her glare. "Bluntness is a protection against silver-tongued opponents."

Del wondered about that, for a moment, before the ache in her temples became too much. "Okay," she said, not sure what else to say.

"What did you think you would gain, coming here?" he asked. His questions, though relentless, were to the point.

"Kas―" Del coughed, stopping herself from saying his name. "Heart-of-Iron wants access to equipment. He will make guns for you and yours, if you allow him. To... protect yourselves from the Unnamed."

"Ah." Matus shook his head. "Yet he still will not join with us, as he had in the past?"

"It's not like that. Everyone has to join together, now. He's already got the Woodsmen," she pointed out. "Crazy Bones. He even talked to Mara."

Del realized what she'd implied, a little too late for her on good. But it wasn't a lie, so much, as _just..._ a bit of omitting the truth. The effect it had on Matus was startling, though.

He sat up straighter, his face closed in and eyes narrowing to a slit. His hands, resting on his thighs, curled into tight fists, and he clenched his jaw so violently she could have sworn she heard teeth crack. Silence, for a welcome moment. Del finished her food, wiping her eyes again.

At least her stomach had stopped complaining. She glanced up at him, wondering what could cause him to react like so. More to the point, if it were Mara making him go on the defensive, _why?_

"This situation is far more difficult and delicate than I had imagined," he said, finally. "That Heart-of-Iron would go through the motions, of contacting her, begs many more questions that I suspect only he can answer."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Del muttered, under her breath.

"There are only two options." Matus shook his head. "The Unnamed encroach on my territory more and more every day, cutting swathes of trees and building breeding pens for their beasts. Even would I hope that I and mine could push back against the tide, we simply don't have enough time." He paused for a moment. "The decision is surely whether to trust Judas, and pay my silver, or chance what was before."

Del shrugged. "Don't ask me, man. I'm just bait."

"You would make an excellent trade," he told her. Stared at her, a subtle smile moving across his face.

She didn't like where that was going. Del sat upright from her slump, rubbing her head and squinting at him. "What are you talking about?" she asked, suspiciously.

"You go where the river takes you," Matus said, the awful smile running rampant across his face. _"Yes?"_

Shit. The shiver that ran down her spine, then, was more than just a chill; it was her mind telling her yet again, that she should have kept her goddamned mouth shut.

"Who are the Sailbacks, but masters of the river?"

* * *

"Cold," Crazy Bones said, tugging at his mount. The parasaur snuffled loudly, almost too loudly, as it ambled along the beach.

He knew perfectly well what Crazy Bones meant. Kasimir shot him a scathing glance.

"Whatever kept you on the beach for those years, I don't think I'd like to know," was the retort. "If it would make one so heartless."

"I don't need your judgement," Kasimir replied.

"On the contrary," the old black man sniffed. "You've lost yourself. Your _name._ Can you claim it, yet?"

Kasimir's footsteps faltered. To his left, high cliffs bordered with stone walls loomed, their only cover the scrub along the sand. This was neither the time nor the way to pick such a battle, he thought.

"Duval―"

"Even having that girl at your side," he replied. "Tch. You've gotten harder."

"And you'd expect me to be as soft as I _was?"_ Kasimir slowed his pace, glaring at the man. "You've not even heard the truth."

"I never asked for it," Crazy Bones said, adjusting the parasaur's course. "Don't think I will, either. I've gotten quite used to this existence."

Kasimir snorted, shaking his head. "A paragon of tribals," he muttered.

"I don't claim a thing." Crazy Bones grinned, under his skull helmet. "Wasn't my idea, any of this. I only embrace it."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kasimir wondered how the man could give up so easily. To let go of the fight, to ignore that there might yet be a way out. Never mind that he'd sought escape, and had been left lacking―

He would always run against the grain. His mouth curled into a grimace, feet matching pace with Crazy Bones' beast. Deep down, he knew that was why he'd been so reluctant to let himself grow attached to any newcomers. And...

It hurt him to think. The girl was a carbon copy of himself. Someone who wanted to fight, who couldn't stop butting her head against everything. That indomitable persistence, tempered by a lifetime and more on the Island, would only bring her to the same conclusion he'd reached.

Was it shameful that he _wanted_ her to fail, as Crazy Bones had? Not to suffer the same outcome, no, but to give up. To stop trying. To...

To accept what had been his curse since he arrived on the Island, some hundred years before. To know that she would live forever, if only she let herself believe.

Perhaps ironically, he'd given her a name that would only lend to that ideal. The soul was impermeable, something not given to failing. Without death, it _never_ gave.

And there _was no death on the Island._


	32. Brokered

Note: Shorter due to unfortunate necessity.

* * *

 _"What the hell!?"_

Jake grabbed hold of the bars of the cage, pulling himself back inside. Two Sailback men grabbed him under the arms and dragged him onto the sand, forcing him to kneel in front of their leader.

Matus glanced down at Jake's head, pushed down by a firm hand on his scalp. He breathed through his nose, calmly. "I've no patience for your... distress, Mr. Ashley. If you would only behave, this will be over that much more swiftly."

"Yeah?" Jake spat at him, struggling against his captors. "I'll tear Viktor's fuckin' tongue out on my _way down!"_

"Such horrible words," Matus said, sighing. He crouched, grabbing Jake's chin and staring directly into his eyes. "Perhaps luckily for you, my hand is forced. You and that glorified _rat_ may leave, unless you've had some change of heart and want to swear fealty."

Jake stopped struggling and stared up at him with suspicion. "The fuck are ya talkin' 'bout?"

The Sailback leader leaned forward, putting his forehead against Jake's. He smiled, moving his lips across the Woodsman's as he explained. "The girl remains. You and your beast may leave. That was her concession."

 _Fuckin' idiot!_ Jake curled his lip up into a grimace, biting his tongue to stop himself from fussing over the matter. Told her to shut the fuck up, but like always she hadn't listened. What else did he _expect,_ really?

Jake jerked backward and attempted to headbutt him. Matus' palm slammed into his face first, breaking his nose with a sickening noise. Jake swore loudly as pain rocketed through his head.

Matus moved back, studying him. His smile widened slyly. "Unluckily for you, she failed to negotiate the condition you are to be _in_ , when you leave."

Jake narrowed his eyes, muttering under his breath. "What was that, Mr. Ashley?"

"Can't get without her," he mumbled, through the blood that dribbled down his chin.

Jake expected that Heart wouldn't give two shits if the girl was killed by the Sailbacks. She had to come down the light again, sometime. Everyone did.

"If you made such a promise, I'm afraid you'll neglect to keep it," Matus told him, standing and considering his palm. He curled his fingers inward, his smile fading to a gentler one. "I have no reason to return the coward's queen. Not when she's _far_ more valuable than a pawn."

Jake's eyes went wide, glaring at him. "That yer game?" he hissed, spraying blood over Matus' knees. "Tradin' her to the Unnamed?"

"Why not?" Matus put his elbow in his hand, leaning his chin onto his knuckles. "I'd rather broker any deal with them, than with a man who, unquestioningly, cannot and will not keep his word." He sighed. "Beyond that, what Sammon seeks is more than domination. You may trust that Heart-of-Iron will give up his knowledge, eventually. I do not."

"Yeah, an' iffen the old man was being lied to this whole time?" Jake stared at him, feeling for all the world like a misbehaving child as he fidgeted in place.

"By whom? You?" Matus chuckled, dropping his arms. "You haven't the _gall."_

"Ya think so?" Jake's mouth turned up into a grin. "Ya don't remember me half as good as ya might, then."

Matus raised an eyebrow at him. "You obviously want to speak. Do so."

"Maybe I says that the Unnamed are somewhere they ain't," he replied, carefully enunciating the words. "Maybe I sent him to Mara, an' let her brace 'im. Maybe I been watchin' over the girl on account of her bein' Iron March, tryin' to get in good with the old man. Or maybe she lets on she's duck soup for a _damn_ fine reason."

Matus pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and sighing. "I rather think I need a translator for you, Mr. Ashley."

"Ain't my fault ya don't listen close enough, shithead." He coughed, spitting out blood. "All I says is ya oughta think a little harder 'bout lettin' me go."

"You're kneeling, as it is," was the reply. "You need only tell me what I want to hear."

"Yeah?" The Woodsman beamed innocently at him. "And how well'd _that_ go, the last time?"

Matus' pinched-in face cracked him up. The man remembered, how could he not? Too many years before, Jake hadn't teamed with Célise nor Woodsmen. Back in his youth on the Island, even. Did his time in the river, fishing and fighting, getting to know his way 'round. Wasn't that he didn't know 'bout the Woodsmen, but when he came down the light it was all Sailback land, the south. They had the bigs, they had the power.

Matus getting so close to his face, even enough to kiss him, told him _everything_ he needed to know about the man. Still had a feeling in his heart for him, still wanted him back. Wasn't afraid to ask, neither.

"I ain't callin' a man brother now 'less he acts like," Jake told him, watching the shimmer of light in his eyes flicker and die. That might've been more fun to see if the asshole wasn't about to get him in hot water, like to boil him alive.

"Well," Matus said, leaning backward and away from him, crossing his arms over his chest. "That is a shame, Mr. Ashley. I regret that we can no longer get along."

"You ain't really tradin' Soul for safety, are ya?" Jake asked, putting on an act. A little desperation might give him leverage, maybe more answers. "Ya'll only get stabbed in the back, ya know."

"Miss Copelin will be perfectly safe in our care." Matus breathed out through his nose a little too loudly. "I _do_ anticipate betrayal. We've experienced this of Sammon, already."

"Yeah, but why?" Jake twisted his arms under the others' grips, feeling the strain of the position settling in. "Why give her over, iffen that?"

It was a long moment before Matus leaned down, placed a hand on Jake's shoulder, and shook his head. "It is very complicated and I fear your tiny mind will suffer for it," he said.

"Don't be a peckerwood, _ya―"_ Jake snapped, fighting against restraint again.

Matus smiled at him. "The Shock rule the sea, we the river. A man may rule the land, but danger lies without; he must then overtake or be damned to overcome many threats."

Jake rolled his eyes at the man. "Yer sayin' the Unnamed are too much. Givin' up wasn't never yer thing, Matus."

"I give nothing, Mr. Ashley." The Sailback leader drew himself up to his full height and sighed in disappointment. "You and I, Mara and Heart-of-Iron, we all worked together without losing ourselves, did we not?"

"I kinda _doubt_ old Sammon there is gonna let ya'll keep the name."

"Yes, but if he were lied to the whole time?" Matus winked at him. "You are glued to your stealthy behavior as if a fly to a singular pile of shit. I will roam, and find other piles." He motioned to his men to carry Jake away.

"Jesus Christ, Matus," Jake groaned, as they dragged him toward the south.

"Oh, and Mr. Ashley?" Matus moved to one side, as Jake glanced back. "Take your overgrown pigeon with you."

He reached into a small cage, removing Sheba by the tail, and threw her head over heels at him. Jake swore under his breath, watching the compy squealing in pain and confusion before righting herself and hissing at Matus.

Jake whistled, calling her to his side, as he was removed from the camp.

* * *

The envoy from Sailbacks arrived before night had fallen. Sammon sat with his legs crossed, staring down from the elevated wooden platform the men had built, as the man explained his necessity for an audience.

He admitted distraction; the men had given him cause. The devil woman, Mara, had left his side for long enough to remove her people to safe distance, claiming her need to slake a thirst. Sammon was given to understand this meant she wanted war, to attack and harm something. He saw no reason she shouldn't continue as she had, until he could outfit her people.

But the men... his men. He had not considered they were under his control, necessarily. His was a position of power established in the absence of a true leader, and only due to function and status. The men knew who he was. They believed in the places they held and would not budge. And now they were very nearly venerating him.

He had been musing of this. As a man, he knew that men would flock to others in power. In fact, the caste of his soldiers was a great indicator that they required a figurehead. A prince, a general. That which they lacked were orders, and orders had never been given by he until the day they were taken away from their homes and cast into this otherworld.

He admitted guilt. He had lost the men and himself to some Hell unbefitting their number. But yet, even though he tried to cast more doubt upon himself as their leader, they only wanted him more in that seat.

And so Sammon, Prince of Geth and son of King Achish, was sitting atop simple wooden dais that did not suit his status, because he could not justify otherwise.

He listened to the words of the messenger. He recalled the Sailback leader, that he did not need to speak because the man filled words where silence was meant to reign. He'd found Matus something less desirable than others; and the beasts they mastered were so easily frenzied. Only a few explosives, thrown in opportune directions, had separated the creatures from their mates.

Sammon smiled to himself, thoughtfully. The swamps provided delightful creatures. Beasts of burden, snakes of unimaginable size... crocodile-like beasts that leapt like the demon from the waters, locking their jaws on limbs and carrying them away. Those had been the most helpful.

Without a rider, a beast was only that. Prone to confusion; meant for mindless combat, and easily confused. Even the largest monsters of the island were no stranger to this.

He realized the greater importance of the woman who would be brought to him: A tribemate of the man he sought so deliberately. It was something he had not anticipated, but a boon nonetheless. His orders to the men were short, and swift. Retrieve the Sailback leader, guarantee his capture, and separate the two as early as could be done.

Sammon closed his eyes and slept, imagining what might come of this event.


	33. Stories

"Well, _that_ was a whole pot full of shit stew," Jake said, stretching his arms above his head as he walked alongside the compy army. "Dammit, Sheba, this is all yer fault."

Sheba, resting on his shoulder, bit him on the ear with an indignant squawk. Jake jerked away, swearing. "Yer entitled ta yer opinion. But iffen ya hadn't been caught by that asshole I wouldna had ta rescue ya. And maybe Soul wouldna be stuck with the fuckin' Sailbacks."

The compy hung her head, peeping apologetically. "Ah, nah, was bound ta happen. Don't beat yerself up over it." Jake rubbed her side, sighing. "Yer too goddamn smart, ya know that?"

Sheba chirped proudly, preening. Jake laughed, shaking his head. "Bet ya do."

The compys followed him as he ducked through trees and over the river, outrunning everything that might try to eat them. Jake felt as at home in the trees on the Island as he had in the swamps back home, his feet picking their way through the brush and hands scrabbling over rocks. He pulled himself up across a ledge, landing on his feet and yelping in surprise as Cocha ambushed him.

Jake's hands went up in a surrender pose, staring down her weapon and the shining black eyes aiming it on him. "Heya, Cocha," he said, with a weak smile.

"How many?" she asked, lowering the crossbow.

"Three, I think." Sheba peeped a confirmation, three compys lost to battle.

Cocha clucked her tongue at him, looking away. Jake only gave her a sheepish look. "Wasn't my fault. Some idiot Stalker rolled over 'em."

"Now?" The woman stared back at him with her dead eyes.

"We head out," he answered, shrugging. "Regroup like we said. Heart and Crazy Bones're bound ta have the shit they need soon."

Cocha nodded, whistling in a low voice for the compys to follow her. She disappeared into the bushes. Jake followed her, sullenly.

* * *

"You might think my behavior callous," Matus mentioned, as he sat across from Del. She would have ignored him, but listening to the pots and pans banging around in her skull was not a preferable alternative.

"I can assure you, however, that you will be in no danger when I deliver you to the Unnamed." Matus curled his legs inward and placed the back of his hands onto his knees, hands open to her. "It is a decision I do not like to take, but the more _acceptable_ outcome."

"You hate Heart-of-Iron that much?" she shot back, irritated. She was handcuffed, skin shivering against the cold of the metal as it sat snugly against her wrists.

"Hate is a strong word." Matus considered her silently for a moment. "If you would allow me, I shall tell you a story."

"Whatever," Del replied, closing her eyes and wincing as the throbbing pain grew again in her head. She still couldn't tell how it worked, but...

"This story starts like all good stories do, once upon a time. A boy and his cousins grew to adulthood in a tiny town in Ukraine, roaming the land and playing at soldiers like small boys are wont to do. The town was idyllic, a place of fantasy where the old ways ruled the people." Matus cleared his throat. "Eventually, there was nothing left to do but to move away. This was the old way, so that blood was never so close. And the cousins made a pact."

Del opened her eyes to see Matus staring at her with an odd look on his face, like he was trying to give her a hint or something. She made a pained face back at him.

"Some of the cousins settled nearby. Became butchers, others smiths. A cobbler here, a farmer there. One even went so far as to board a ship and sail away." He closed his hands into fists and looked down at his lap, concentrating. "He never forgot their pact; that they would return to each other's company in twenty years' time.

"The cousin who traveled the sea went far and wide. He found work in the slave trade. In that time he met many a man who might be a worthy companion, but always found himself alone. All that he had learned aboard the vessel kept him alive for twenty long years, his skills bettered and mind honed. When it came time to return, he was sure that his stories would best all those of his cousins, who had never set off for adventure as he had.

"But his braggart nature was tempered greatly when he discovered that plague had run its course through his homeland, ravaging whole families and leaving the fields untilled. Time had come to meet his cousins, but where were they? Many were fallen and laid in the ground."

Matus snapped his mouth shut and sighed out through his nose, closing his eyes. Del watched him, slightly curious as to the point of the story.

"Those who still remained were humbled by the scourge, far too pained to bother themselves with thrilling stories and great adventure. They turned their cousin away at their doors, each and every one. And he wept, for his memories of his boyhood were fresh, yet the others had forgotten.

"The cousin couldn't leave his homeland again; it felt a betrayal when so many needed a helping hand. He traveled the land, asking to be put to work. But none would have him." Matus opened his eyes, staring down at his hands. "He was destitute, in the end. He had abandoned his own to their fates, and turned his eyes from God." One hand raised to his neck, drawing a thumb across his throat.

"Killed himself," Del muttered.

"That is why he is here," Matus replied, returning his hand to his knee. "But if you believe that we are here to be punished, you are wrong. We are here because our time on Earth was cut short, and we have work yet to do."

She didn't think either one of those explanations fit the Island, and their being there. But she couldn't argue otherwise. Del wiped her face of the tears that still fell, the ache in her head throbbing. "Is that story about you?"

"It is yours, and mine, and the others'. I have gathered many stories from the people of the Island, in my years here." Matus breathed out, slowly. "Would you like to hear?"

"I guess," she mumbled. "Already know about Crazy Bones."

"Mr. Ashley was shot in the back by the police," Matus said. "As he told it, his 'moll' sold him out. Crime never pays."

Del nodded to herself. That made sense. Jake talked exactly like an old-school gangster.

"The Woodsmen leader, Mademoiselle Aude, was taken during what she called The Terror. As I recall, she was beheaded alongside many others."

"French Revolution," Del muttered to herself. She paused for a moment. "But what about...?"

"The coward?" He rolled his eyes in disgust. "I cannot say. His is a path none can take but for himself."

Del stared at her reflection in Matus' armor, trying to imagine Kasimir as a sailor. The stereotypical striped shirt and cap, like those cartoons she remembered seeing came to mind. She shook her head at that, instead picturing him with his long beard and a pirate outfit. That was even sillier, to think about.

Better a slave trader than a Nazi? She didn't think he could have been a Nazi, anymore. Had a Russian name. Her knowledge of World War II wasn't the greatest, but she knew that the Russians had swept through Berlin at the end of the war. They weren't the best of friends with Germans―

"Would you be so kind as to tell me yours?" Matus asked her, interrupting her thoughts.

"My... you mean, my story?" She frowned at him, rubbing her temple.

"I have collected as many as I can, for as long as I can remember. And my memory is quite excellent." Matus smiled to himself, looking proud. "I would be honored to collect yours as well."

Del coughed, wincing at the pain that lanced through her head. "I guess," she said, rubbing her temple and squeezing her eyes shut.

 _"It was a dark and stormy night..."_

* * *

"Don't take too long," Crazy Bones said, tightening the reins on his parasaur. He turned the beast away from the entrance to the cave, moving himself along the wall.

The foliage wouldn't provide much cover. If the Runners saw either of them―and opened fire―Crazy Bones would run, without a doubt. Kasimir didn't blame him. Everyone was out for their own selves, now. Nothing to bind them together, as in the past.

That was _his_ fault.

He walked into the cave, unafraid of the beasts that might be there. Darkness. Then light, as the lava burned its way through the ground. Bats, spiders, snakes, centipedes. Creatures of the earth, defending their territory.

He might have been afraid, but they were nothing to worry about. The box he'd hidden among the crystals that jutted from the walls, larger than a man, was easily recovered. Kasimir was careful, quiet, and sweating by the time he'd gathered his equipment.

He'd left the box for the future. Had he died in the towers, had he gone in the volcano, the cache was meant to go to Mara. It was untouched, yet. He had not told her about the box.

He knew why. The end fight, every tribe on the Island leaving his side. Feeling the crush of losing so many people, of the goal being so much less than their continued and guaranteed existence on the Island. Who knew what happened to those who died, fighting the Broodmother or the others? Even his spirit began to fade. He had no want for Mara to attempt the ascension herself, should he be gone.

Kasimir donned the armor. He took a deep breath as the helmet covered his head, the hiss of a seal causing him to release his lungs from their captivity. It had been so long since he'd worn the armor, and he had so little of the element left...

Kasimir grasped the Tek rifle, examining it for a moment. Even without the element to power it, it was enough to intimidate.

It would have to do. Even if he expended what was left, in his attempt to reclaim Eagle Gate, it would pay off. He could make lower tier weaponry that was easier to maintain if only he had access to his stores. Whatever was _left_ of them, at any rate.

He exited the cave slowly, feeling the tight fit of the armor. When he'd first made it, he'd felt invincible. And selfish, for he'd only made one set. It was far too valuable to trust anyone else to use.

The sunlight on the beach glinted off his shoulders, illuminating him as if he himself were a beacon. The powered suit was lit up, blue streams of energy coursing through it.

Powerful energy. Kasimir turned to Crazy Bones, huddling against the wall as before. "Can you make your way alone?" he asked him, quietly.

"I've no choice, have I?" the old man replied, looking down on him with glittering eyes.

"You knew this plan's end before I thought it," Kasimir replied.

Crazy Bones sighed, nodding slowly. "I did. Listen, Heart." He adjusted himself in the saddle, scratching at his beard. "Do not abandon that girl again."

"Whatever use she has is not one I can find." Kasimir lifted his rifle and leaned it onto his shoulder. "Other than an unwanted restraint."

"Everyone has a place and purpose. Whatever is out there, whoever put us here, made her _your_ burden." Crazy Bones tapped his helmet gently. "You need to find why."

Kasimir didn't trust that the old man's words held meaning, but he nodded anyway. Agreeing with Crazy Bones was the quickest way to get him on his way.

"That being said..." Crazy Bones shook his head. "I better get moving." He gestured out at the water.

Kasimir turned his head, watching through the trees. He switched the helmet mode, watching the landscape change around him instantly. Dark shapes coursed through the water, just off the coast. A noise indicated alarm. The Shock.

Kasimir turned back to Crazy Bones and saluted him. Crazy Bones saluted back and spurred his beast onward with a loud braying noise. Kasimir waited for the first volley of cannons to sound before he activated the jets on the armor and flew into the sky, away from the beach. Aimed himself toward the northeast, toward the river.

He'd been wrong that they were not bound to each other, in some way. Was it only to break the monotony of life? Plenty could be done to avoid that, if one chose. Crazy Bones was set in his ways, had been content to run the trading post until a natural death took him, but now seemed to enjoy the excitement of another Island war.

He owed the old bastard another debt. Taking the hit for him. The Shock would likely chase him until they caught him, and he would die.

It really wasn't worth it, in the end. How much _could_ he do, in this moment? What he'd done before? Even if he could find the heart for that, would anyone trust him? Barring the neutral ones, like Crazy Bones, he doubted any would.

But the wheels were set and the train moving. What else to do, but ride those rails until he reached his destination?

Kasimir sighed, as the trees blurred beneath him.


	34. Engram Unlocked

Note: I know I made some errors regarding Tek in the last chapter, but this whole thing needs an overhaul. Until I can get to that, I'm trekking on.

* * *

"I really don't know how to explain it better," Del said, shifting her weight on the cool stone floor. One cheek had gone numb from the chill―or maybe from sitting there for hours, she couldn't really tell―and Matus' persistent questioning was getting on her nerves.

"It is a machine, you said, that can calculate anything in the world?" He stared at her with glittering eyes.

"No, it's more like―" She groaned, rubbing her temple. "You use a machine to get online, a computer or a cell phone or something like that. The Internet itself is like―"

Never had she ever thought she would be trying to explain the Internet to a person who had no concept of what a computer was. She wasn't sure how the Internet really worked, herself.

"―it's just like a collection of all the information in the world," she ended, lamely. "Like, if you want to know how to make soup, or who won the Super Bowl, or what the President is up to, or something. Anything you can think of, really."

"Astounding," Matus said, leaning forward. "Three hundred years of science has certainly done the world good."

Del shrugged a shoulder, her face stuck in a near-permanent squint of pain. Matus was from... the early 1700's? Best she could estimate. Not that she could remember when computers were invented or anything. She vaguely remembered something about the first computers being so big they filled entire rooms, but that was about it.

"And you, do you remember all this information?" Matus leaned backward, turning his chin down and staring at her bowed head.

Del snorted. "I didn't really use the Internet like that," she muttered. "And even if I did, I wouldn't remember _half_ of it."

"Hmm." The man curled a hand up near to his chin, in thought. "...May I show you something?"

"If you gotta," she groaned, as the next wave of ache washed over her forehead.

Where the fuck was Kasimir? She'd been waiting for what felt like forever in Matus' home, watching the light begin to turn orange around the edges of a window that faced west. Night was coming and Matus hadn't really given her a time frame as to when he was trading her off, but she expected it to be sooner rather than later.

Matus moved across the room to a table, tools and other things scattered across the top. He brought back a rolled up sheet of paper, unrolling it as he approached her. Del watched with bleary eyes as the man turned the paper around and showed it to her, crouching in front of her with his arms outstretched.

"Do you know this?" he asked, his eyes staring at her over the top of the paper. Del looked down, trying to focus.

A blueprint? She squinted at the tiny text, printed onto the paper in neat paragraphs. The diagram seemed easy enough to understand, a simple pistol. Just like the one she'd gotten off the Stalker, the one that Matus had confiscated from her. Somehow, in her head, she _"knew"―_

Her implant shone brightly as she reached out to take the blueprint, the knowledge popping into her head immediately. She "knew" how to make a gun. The pistol blueprint suddenly made total sense.

Another thing about being in this world that she wished she didn't have to deal with, at all. Just like how she'd understood how to make bolas, after seeing them in Crazy Bone's house. Something in her brain automatically unlocked the information when she needed it.

It was as confusing as anything else. But she supposed if she could believe in living, breathing, dinosaurs, the ability to "know" things wasn't that _upsetting._

Del lowered the paper to her lap, reading the diagram carefully. "It's a gun," she said, trying not to give away her nervousness. Did he want her to make a gun―like Jake?

"That much is clear," Matus said, moving slightly closer. He tapped the paper with to fingers, the contact making her jump in place. "Can you understand it? Do you know how to make one?"

"Does it matter?" Del asked, looking up at him with eyebrows drawn together.

"I may be persuaded from my previous course of action," Matus encouraged her, "if so."

"My mom always says _'maybe'_ means _'no'_ ," Del told him, pointedly. She began rolling up the paper, dropping her eyes from his.

"You are not unintelligent," he said, smiling at her ruefully. "Neither your mother. I admit that I would trade you away for the chance of protection, if I believed it would benefit the Sailbacks." Matus sat back, onto his heels. "But if you were possessed of the ability to outfit my people with something more than pikes or hatchets..." He turned his head down in a nod to her.

"Then what?" Del gripped the paper with one hand, crumpling the middle.

"When Sammon and his men came to seek alliance with Sailbacks, he first spoke of riches and glory. We have no need for such things, naturally. His eyes lit on our creatures, and he wanted their power. Therefore, he asked what we desired. And he gave it." Matus held his hands out, with his palms up. "He took it away, just as easily. His army is too powerful, destroying our creatures with grenades and heavy weaponry. What you see in Riverbend is only a pale image of our prior accomplishment."

 _There he goes again,_ Del thought, annoyed. The man talked so much, he must like the sound of his own voice.

"But we were careful," he went on. "When his men used the smithy, when they crafted their weapons from these papers, we were there to see. And we remembered." He lifted a hand and gestured to a bookshelf on the far wall. "I believe Sammon has been careful not to invade, now that he realizes how much we know. That he will use this trade-off as an attempt to capture who remains of Sailback."

"You think you can outsmart him?" She was starting to see what he was saying.

"He believed he would overcome us completely, leaving nothing behind. He underestimated us." Matus grinned, one corner of his mouth pulling upward into a sinister smile. "Viktor and I have been walking the river for many a year. Even through deception, we Sailbacks will not be destroyed that easily."

"So why not make your own guns?" Del asked, looking down at the blueprint.

"The knowledge is not ours to have," he replied, throwing his hands out in a dismissive gesture. "We may craft pikes, tools with which to harvest, but nothing so powerful as that which Sammon or Heart-of-Iron might."

Del thought about that for a moment. She was suddenly in a position of power, something she hadn't expected to happen. Like, _ever._ Kasimir could make guns. So could this Sammon guy, which meant... was she one of smartest people on the Island?

She snorted at that idea. Sounded like a load of _bullshit,_ honestly.

"You made a deal with Heart-of-Iron, once," she said, slowly.

"Yes," Matus nearly interrupted her. "Years ago. Before his betrayal to every tribe. When I sent the envoy to seek him on the beach, I expected no more than he gave. He will not part with his knowledge, not if he may still run."

She knew what the man wanted. What had Jake said? _Everyone wants to know but no one wants to ask._ Except Jake had asked, and Kasimir reacted exactly the same as he had when talking to the Sailback man.

But when she'd asked, he'd... he'd seemed willing, in his own way. He didn't spit hateful words at her or slam her head into a wall. She didn't know if his dropping hints to her was because she couldn't really put it all together―she didn't know what the tower fights were really like, she didn't know what was at the end of it all, or anything.

 _Jake was right,_ she thought. About him being embarrassed. Matus kept calling him a coward. It was pretty clear from the way everyone treated him, that he'd lost all respect on the Island.

She wondered to herself. Kasimir had acted comforting toward her when she'd needed it. He might have been rough with her, after she saved him from Mara―she knew now it was because she'd screwed the whole situation―but he forgave her ridiculously quickly, answering her questions as best he could.

Was he worried that she would see him differently, when she found out he'd run away from everything? What he'd said up on the rocks came back to her. That it was easy to forget how to be polite.

Twenty years on the beach would do that, she bet. Alone, every time someone left him. Maybe it was as simple as that? Because she _hadn't_ left him alone on the beach? Would he bother to be nice to her, otherwise? She seemed like the only person on the Island who―

 _"What_ if I could get the truth?" she asked Matus, who had been staring at her with hooded eyes.

"From the coward?" The man scoffed. "That is a bet I would not place, even with money not mine."

"I know some, already," she said, carefully.

"Is that so?" Matus' grin returned. Del fought the nausea that bubbled in the pit of her stomach.

"Yes," she replied, clearing her throat and trying to think straight. Her head was feeling―much better, actually, and she hadn't noticed until now. The buzzing seemed to be fading.

 _Dammit,_ she thought. Kasimir was on his way back, finally. But... because Matus was asking her for help, she didn't think that was a _good_ thing.

Jake would tell him what happened. They might be watching the camp or even waiting for some kind of signal, or planning an attack. She didn't know what they'd do, really. Didn't even know what to think, since Kasimir's plan had supposedly been for her to convince Matus of a truce but he'd really planned for the whole thing to fail.

Just like all the _other_ times she'd tried something and it backfired on them, horribly.

"Listen," she murmured, handing the blueprint back to the Sailback leader. "Heart-of-Iron is on his way back. I want to make a new deal with you, before he gets here."

"Speak quickly, Miss Copelin," Matus answered with a smirk, "for as we both know, when the coward comes he will be... _cranky,_ as he always is."

"I know," she said, her heart sinking.

 _Only one shot at this, Del._

* * *

Jake lay on the forest floor, staring up through the trees and listening to the crackle of the campfire. They'd taken refuge in the woodland above the river, chancing discovery by Sailbacks but relatively safe from the beasts roaming the woods. There wasn't much option but to wait, now.

He was waiting for the meat on the fire to cook, while the rest of the Woodsmen did... whatever they were doing. Jake didn't keep track of 'em. Didn't need to. Everyone had their roles, everyone knew what to do. If something went down, they could cover each other's asses. They'd survived so far, doing all that.

Not like Soul-of-Iron. She was ignorant and needful for someone to teach her, someone who actually wanted her around. Someone who'd keep track of her 'til she could learn. Jake sighed to himself, thinking about the situation.

He prised a twig from the ground and stuck it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. He didn't like Matus' plan, not one bit. Something was going on, something he hadn't seen coming, and that stung his pride a little. _He_ was s'posed to be the sneaky one, not that asshole.

Trading her to this Sammon character―well, it didn't bode well for the future. When Heart got back, when he came back without his fancy gear he was looking for, they were gonna have to revise the plan. How to get Soul back from Matus before she got nicked by the Unnamed. How to get out of the no man's land 'round Runner and Sailback territory without having their asses handed to them on a silver platter.

How to fight against something so powerful as the Unnamed when they didn't have guns anymore, and they didn't have anywhere to build new.

He missed Célise. She'd know what to do, she always did―course, she'd probably say not to trust Heart at all. That it wasn't worth the shit he brought on everyone, to get involved with his plans.

It was official. They were gonna go down, one way or the other, and Heart-of-Iron was behind it. Again.

Cocha flicked a shard of rock at him, bouncing it off his chest. Jake looked down. She cupped a hand around her ear and looked around, frowning.

Jake cocked an ear at the area. A soft noise at first, like rushing air at the base of a waterfall, came. Jake's mouth turned down, the twig dropping from his mouth as he sat up.

Cocha vanished into the trees, the compy army following her. Only Sheba remained, tilting her head and making soft breathy sounds as she stared into the trees.

Something shining and streaked with blue slammed into the ground near to the campfire, a shock wave billowing out from the landing. Sheba squawked in alarm, the rush of air pushing her over and back by a foot or two. Cinders lit into the air, setting the leaf litter on fire and catching Jake's face. He brushed at the hot ash frantically.

The silver-suited figure turned, raising a fantastic-looking rifle to its shoulder. Jake grinned, widely. "God _damn_ , man!" he said, wiping his face. "That's a helluva entrance to make!"

The helmet facing disappeared with a hexagonal flash of blue, showing the man inside. "Landing is more difficult than I remember," Heart admitted.

"Well, looks it's worth the trouble." Jake admired the suit for a moment, not sure where to start. Damn thing was like some jumped-up automaton, all shining plates and flashing lights. _Really thought it was all gone,_ he thought to himself. Aloud, he asked, "Where's Duval?"

Heart shook his head. "We encountered the Shock."

 _"Shit,"_ Jake muttered. "He alive?"

Heart shrugged a shoulder. Jake muttered a curse. "Right, well, you ain't gonna like too much what I hafta say."

"Expected," Heart muttered. He set his mouth into a line. "We won't wait for Duval. If he's dead, he'll come down the light in Runner territory. We have no time to spare."

"What's yer lay, then?" Jake caught a flash of color from the trees, the compy army lining up in the bushes and watching the scene carefully.

"I'm going to talk to Matus," Heart said, lowering the rifle from his shoulder. "He will listen, or he will not."

"Don't forget 'bout the beasts," Jake reminded him. "Viktor ain't likely to kick off any time soon."

"Yes," Heart said, turning his eyes toward the trees and the hidden compys. "But that's where you come in."

"What?" Jake crossed his arms over his chest. "Iffen ya think I'm gonna fight a _spino―"_

"Don't need to fight it." The helmet facing reappeared, as suddenly as it had gone. When Heart spoke again, his voice was distorted and echoing. "Just need to... bait it."

 _"Motherfu―"_


	35. The Rescue

Del didn't realize how strong her arms really were, as she hammered out metal teeth meant to be fitted into a trap. She thought for sure she'd be exhausted after the first bit of crafting, gripping the tongs and banging away at the thick ingots.

Whatever had been done to her she was no longer the chubby, clumsy, glasses-wearing teenager she had been on Earth. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light inside Matus' house―her ears catching small noises from outside, her nose full of the smell of cooking food and spinosaur stink―all her senses working better than she ever remembered. Her breath didn't even come quickly in her chest from the exertion.

Matus had sat down across the room, his back against the wall, watching her work for a few minutes before his chin dipped to his chest. Del could hear his breathing even out. He must trust her enough, if he'd gone to sleep.

Del rubbed her eye with the back of her gloved hand, an itch in her eyelid bothering her. The deal they'd made wasn't exactly what she'd expected―Matus' negotiation reminded her of arguing with her cousins. Do this for me and I'll do that, but they always held the better end of the stick. Mostly because they'd sit on her and wouldn't let her up until she agreed to their terms.

She'd never been very good at wiggling out of those deals, in the end.

Knowing what she did now, she'd tried to get Matus to leave out his _"one favor, to be determined at a later date"_ , but he wouldn't budge.

"This is the deal," was all he said, in reply.

As part of it, Matus had agreed not to harm or cause harm to come to anyone she named. She made sure to include all the Woodsmen she knew, and Sheba too, just in case.

In return, she was making bear traps. Huge mouths of metal that, once she started, actually didn't seem to take very long to put together. A few of the Sailbacks had been in and out of the house, helping her assemble them. Once done, they were taken off―somewhere.

She almost wished she hadn't asked Matus to let Jake go. Almost. He'd have been able to tell her if the deal was legit or not, but she kinda doubted his smartass remarks would have done any good for either of them.

The air grew tense. Night had come and Kasimir still hadn't shown up, even though he was nearby. She wondered if he was waiting for Matus to make a move, to take her out of the camp.

She hoped he showed up, soon. Being alone with the Sailback leader was stressful. She still didn't trust him enough to believe he'd honor the deal.

 _Also_ like her cousins. Del squinted at the metal, sighing through her nose.

Any sounds from the trees were muted by a soft but persistent rainfall that picked up almost as soon as the sun went down. Viktor had laid down to sleep, his earth-shaking footsteps stilled. Del had wondered where the other spinos were until Matus explained to her that the Unnamed tribe had traps. The kind of traps that the Woodsmen were good at making, the kind she made now.

 _"They got their bigs and we got good at killin' 'em."_ That's what Jake had said. Del understood that the Unnamed had killed almost every single spino the Sailbacks had. They had the Woodsmen.

She supposed that was just part of being on the Island, though. Without the technology that made life easy, it could only be a hard life. Nothing to do for fun but fight and bite and fight like a more realistic Itchy and Scratchy Show.

Del let out an annoyed breath. Great, now she'd have that stupid song stuck in her head.

Half an hour passed. She checked her implant, keeping an eye on the time. The rain slowed and stopped. Other than the crackle of the fire and her hammering, there were no sounds.

She lowered her hand, staring at the wall opposite her. _No sounds?_ She remembered that, from before. When the roars sounded, back at Kasimir's hut, there had been nothing. When she'd "rescued" Kasimir from Mara, the same. Hadn't paid much attention to it, back then―everything was so new and scary.

"Matus," she asked, turning to look across the room.

The man lifted his head, looking up at her with a question. Maybe he wasn't so relaxed as she thought. He didn't act like he'd just woken up, his eyes sharp on hers.

"Do you hear that?" she asked.

He turned his dark eyes to the side, then suddenly bolted upright, striding across the room to the door in a few long steps. Matus jerked open the door, staring out into the darkness, his free hand grabbing his pike.

Viktor let loose a loud bellow, somewhere nearby. Thundering steps shook the ground, his scaly side the only part of his body she could see through the door as he stampeded past the house. His tail brushed the ground―

He was on _fire!_

Del dropped the tongs in surprise, the metal she'd been working on falling to the floor alongside. Matus dashed outside, leaving her alone in the room. She went to the door, gripping the edge as she stared with wide eyes on the scene unfolding before her.

Viktor was running in circles around the houses and through the village, bellowing in pain and anger. A burning bundle of sticks and brush was caught on the short fin on his tail, ash trailing out behind him as he ran. Del breathed in smoke, covering her mouth and coughing as he passed by.

Sailbacks were running to and from the water, putting out fires that Viktor started as he paraded through the village. Matus was hanging onto his side, hands woven through the saddle straps and attempting to calm the beast. The noise was incredible, between the roaring of the spino and the shouts of people trying to avoid the enormous dinosaur.

Del stepped out of the house but ducked back inside as Viktor made another round, his tail slamming into the stone wall and scraping small bits of mortar away. She moved from the door, her fingers tight on the hammer.

"What the hell?" she wondered to herself, glancing toward an open window. _Shit―!_ Someone was standing behind it, peering into the house. Del lifted her hand, throwing the hammer at whoever it was.

The answer came quickly enough. Jake yelped and swore, grabbing at his face as he reeled backward from the window. Del made a face at him. "The fuck is wrong with you!" she yelled at him through the opening.

Jake groaned, and looked up at her with one squinted eye. "Christ Almighty, I only come ta _rescue_ ya!"

Sheba jumped onto Jake's shoulder, settling herself and staring at her. Del pointed at the door and Viktor's rampage. "You did that?" she asked, angrily.

"Who else?" Jake wiped his forehead where the hammer had broken the skin, grimacing. _"C'mon,_ Soul, time ta get the hell outta here."

"No," she said, firmly. If she left, it would ruin everything―

Jake shot her a look that combined anger and disgust, but ultimately ended with disbelief. "What the shit―" he sputtered at her, his eyes narrowed in what little light there was. He glanced to his left, the vibrations of Viktor's stomping coming to a stop. Matus must have managed to control him. Jake muttered something that sounded like an apology before throwing out a hand and pulling her arm through the opening.

Del was caught off-guard, crying out as he scraped her elbow across the stones. She bent forward with the yank, and his other arm reached out to haul her out by the back of her shirt. The cloth, straining against his grip and her resisting body, ripped.

She slapped out at him with her free hand, catching him across the face and digging her fingers into his ear and eye. Jake yelled something incomprehensible and released her with a jerk, grabbing at his face again. The thin shoulder straps of her shirt tore with the motion.

Her shirt hung loosely on her, falling around her hips. Thank goodness she was still wearing the thin strip of cloth around her chest―she still covered herself self-consciously as she backed away from him.

"Really, now," Jake groaned, covering his eye with one hand. "Ya just can't let shit 'lone, can ya?"

"I was supposed to make a truce with Matus," she said. "Remember? _Well―"_

Jake gave a tiny incredulous laugh. "Ya didn't―" he started.

She interrupted him. "What the hell is going on, Jake?!" she asked, frustrated.

"I just says!" he complained, rubbing his face. "I swear, ya must be deaf or somethin'! I told ya not ta talk to that asshole―"

"Things are different now," Del told him, glancing toward the door. "Matus isn't gonna hurt anyone―"

"I'd as soon believe that as I'd think ya'd _listen,"_ Jake snapped back.

"We have a plan―"

Jake swore, nastily, turning away from her and throwing up his hands. "Ya gonna _let_ yerself get taken off by some palooka like Sammon?" He turned and jabbed a finger at her through the opening. "I'm tryin' ta help ya here, ya bitch!"

Del fixed her eyes on him with the meanest glare she could muster, raising her hand to grab the edge of the window. Jake gave back what he got, the blood on his temple congealing and his eye reddened.

Sheba jumped through the window, then, landing on her chest and knocking her backward. Del grabbed at the compy, startled by her ambush. She stumbled and landed on her ass, groaning with the painful impact. Sheba looked up at her, making triumphant sounds, before rubbing her cheek along her jaw. The feathers on the top of her head caught Del's nose, making her jerk.

Jake snorted at the two of them, crawling through the window and righting himself with a tumble. "Much as I wanna have a starin' match, we're _goin',"_ he grunted, reaching down and grabbing Del by the arms and hauling her toward the door.

 _"Stop it,_ Jake!" she yelled, trying to dig her heels into the stone floor. "You're just making it worse―"

He managed to pull her from the house just in time to be surrounded by Sailbacks, some with pikes and others holding crossbows on them. Matus sat atop Viktor, who was growling quietly at the Woodsman, his arms over his chest and a bemused smile on his face.

Jake let her go, slowly, loosing a stream of obscenities under his breath. Del groaned, rolling onto her hands and knees. "Goddammit, Jake," she mumbled, pushing herself upward and rubbing at her wrists where he'd grabbed her.

"Did you really think that this plan would work?" Matus asked him, with a sly smile.

"Naw, not really," Jake answered, his hands loose at his sides. He looked around as he spoke, like he was sizing up the opposition. He stopped his gaze on Matus, smiling back at the man. "But _this_ one will."

A loud noise sounded, something landing hard and driving into the ground in front of them. A rush of wind blew over Del, whipping loose sand into her face. She coughed in surprise and irritation, blinking rapidly, her arms up in front of her.

When she could open her eyes without pain, she lowered her arms to see a silver-encased figure standing before them, blue energy crackling about its chest and head. _"What―"_ she shrieked, but her thoughts were drowned out by Jake's shushing her.

The figure looked like it'd been ripped right out of a video game. Shining silver armor with pulsing lights in the crevices of its layered plates, the futuristic rifle it carried discharging translucent hexagons that faded into nothingness. The figure lifted the rifle, aiming it on Matus, who opened his eyes wide but didn't lose the satisfied smirk.

When it spoke, she recognized it as Kasimir. The computerized sound to his voice reminded her of Optimus Prime, but without the corny John Wayne accent. She held her breath, staring at him. His gear, the stuff from the cave on the coast? This was _that?_

How he'd survived the tower fights, the only one who came out alive in the very end, made sense. Compared to everything else on the Island, what he was wearing was― _insane!_

"Face me on the ground, Sailback," he said, through the sudden silence that drew out.

Matus chuckled, the sound echoing out over Riverbend. He moved to dismount, patting Viktor's skull as his leg hiked over the saddle.

Del used the distraction to move herself across the ground, toward Kasimir. She didn't know what she would say, but―it didn't matter. Kasimir lifted an arm and connected with her eyes and forehead, barring her. She ducked under it, turning and glaring at him with her arms crossed over her nearly-bare chest.

Matus lit to the ground, carrying his pike at his side. He patted Viktor, saying something in a low tone, and the spino backed up by a few steps. It lowered its head and turned it to the side, one red iris staring them down.

"So, the coward returns," Matus said, placing the pike into the ground and leaning on it. He crossed his ankle over the other, just as he had when Del first met him.

"You're not really _helping,_ here," she said, exasperated.

Kasimir moved both hands back to the rifle. He didn't answer, the only indication of his mental state the noise of his fingers tightening on the weapon.

"I have no more quarrel with you, Heart-of-Iron," Matus said, staring him down. "Present company excluded, I would duel. I have, however, had an epiphany."

Del rolled her eyes. "I made the truce," she explained, her voice strained. "Like you _said."_

"Yes," Matus added. "We've come to an... agreement." He grinned at Kasimir, looking full of himself.

Kasimir lowered his rifle to his side, turning to face Del. The face of his helmet disappeared in a diagonal direction. He shot her a disappointed look, his mouth drawn into a thin line.

"Chew me out about it later," she muttered, looking away. She raised a hand to brush hair out of her face. "Sailbacks are on our side, at least, right?"

Kasimir crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the Sailback man. Matus was some inches taller than him, but met his gaze without moving his head. "Right," Kasimir said, his voice hard.

Matus opened his mouth to speak, but that was when all _Hell_ broke loose.


	36. We Die

Note: I'm about 1k words away from the next one. Don't like leaving chapters hanging (even if I get kudos for it)

* * *

Night had fallen, as always, like a curtain drawn over the world.

Kasimir stared at the girl, trying his damnedest not to snap at her like he had before. To not lose his temper while the Sailback leader acted like the snide bastard he always had been, and to not simply lift his rifle and shoot the whole lot of them.

She'd not failed, this time. Any other plan he might have made was ruined because she'd come looking for him, or simply not listened to anyone but her own self. In the past few days, he'd come to the conclusion that she was a nuisance, useless to him with her lack of experience and knowledge about what went on around the Island―an unwanted restraint, as he'd told Duval.

A nuisance that was _his_ creation, he realized now. The thought didn't make him any less angry with her, or with himself, or with the situation. And truth be told, he'd sent Jake with to get him captured by the Sailbacks. Even if he told himself it was a test to see how "loyal" the man was, it had really been for revenge.

 _Thirteen times._ The fourteenth was looking closer than ever.

It hadn't occurred to him that Matus would want to broker a deal with the Unnamed. The man's predictability in the past lent to him a much more stubborn nature, one that did not move of its own accord. If Matus was becoming flexible, it could only mean that the Unnamed were far more powerful and much more intimidating than Kasimir had imagined before.

And here he stood in his Tek armor, staring down the girl and trying to put together a plan. How to break her deal with Matus, how to remove the both of them from Riverbend, and how to weather the storm that should come, once they were again hunted.

Fate, however, made his struggle _much_ easier.

Matus opened his mouth to deliver a long-winded diatribe, but was interrupted. With a mighty crack and and a loud crash, a tree fell into the camp from the cliff wall above them. The flaming mess broke into two on impact, showering the onlookers with splinters, smaller branches, and hot ember.

Then, suddenly, the enemy was in the camp. Dinosaurs broke through the trees and around the rocks, streaming into Riverbend like they'd had an invitation. A few were immobilized―Kasimir could hear the snap of bear traps, activating and clamping down tight on carnos and raptors. Their agonized roars of pain were overshadowed by the last spinosaur the Sailbacks had.

Viktor bellowed out in fear and panic, rearing up and slamming his feet down onto his master. Matus disappeared into the cloud of dust and sand, involuntary grunts of pain the only sign he still lived.

Screams came from all around them. The crack of broken limbs and gushing of blood from the unlucky, the sound of wooden structures being smashed into a million pieces, even the pounding of his own heart in his ears―

The attack was so swift and brutal, there wasn't much time to react. Jake had already vanished. Kasimir could no more begrudge him his retreat than he could the girl, _her_ reaction―she was standing, stock still, with her mouth agape and eyes wide. Fire reflected from her dark eyes, her body shaking like a leaf.

He, himself, had not been prepared for this. Kasimir knew there was only one course of action to be had.

He turned, grabbed the girl around her waist, and activated his jet pack.

* * *

Del gasped in surprise as she was lifted into the air. Kasimir wrapped his arms about her and crushed her into the fancy armor, flying directly up into the air with a shuddering jump.

 _And_ he could _fly?!_ She couldn't imagine why he hadn't managed to get out of this place, yet. What he was able to do, the armor, the rifle, it was miles ahead of everyone else on the Island. The tech he was using now was on par with the implants and the towers in the sky―nothing like the primitive equipment everyone else used.

She squirmed under his grip, the plates on his chest digging into her back. Air rushing around her head made it impossible for her to hear anything, her voice lost to the wind as they climbed into the sky like the pteranodons she'd seen flying about.

For just a moment or two, Del let herself marvel at the darkened land underneath them. The sickly-colored moss that covered the swampy ground, mandrake trees rising from the mud in clusters. The sprawling hills covered with brush and the odd dinosaur or two roaming them, even a wall that enclosed everything to their east and south.

Sprawling rivers, yellow sand, a waterfall that crashed down into a small pool of deepening blue. Mountains in the distance past the enormous redwood trees that made up the Island's interior, dusky white-capped peaks even farther away. Beams of light came down from the sky, their auras illuminating parts of the land. The Island was beautiful―

But not so impressive as the fingers of stone that surged out of the ground, set in a circular pattern around a hole that flickered with energy. A stream of light led upward into one of the suspended towers, its sides impossibly black against the night sky. She could see the diamond set into the side, pulsing with vibrant green light, as they drew closer and closer to its base.

Del turned her head to the side, looking down to see the whole of Riverbend was being overrun. Fire danced through the camp, lighting up figures running in all directions, showing the carnos that rampaged through. Smaller dinosaurs darted back and forth and she could imagine the hellish screeches that they must be making as they jumped onto the backs of the people, tearing into flesh and drowning out their screams―

Del closed her eyes and turned away from it all. Kasimir adjusted his movement with a jerk as she wrapped her hands around his forearms, the world suddenly gone quiet as his jets cut out. She tightened her hands on the slick armor, feeling her palms sliding against the plates, as he started to fall downward―

Kasimir swore. The jets sputtered pathetically, making alarming noises, short coughs as the device spun but couldn't keep their altitude.

Del screamed as they fell faster and faster toward the ground, Kasimir spinning around uncontrollably―

* * *

She didn't remember hitting the ground. Del opened her eyes to see the jutting stones hanging over her like they were about to close up and bury her forever. She was cold, lying on her stomach with her legs and hips in a pool of water that had collected at the base of an enormous stone pedestal.

Her face hurt like a motherfucker, dried blood peeling from the foliage as she turned her head to look around. She blinked blearily into the near-darkness, trying to sort her jumbled thoughts. _Great, another concussion!_

Light radiated from a mass of slick black rock that was embedded into the stone wall. She realized that it was the same as the alien tech that made up the tower above her. It cast an otherworldly shine onto the ground, making everything glitter with green.

She coughed, her throat dry and chest tight, and pushed herself up with one arm. A burning, stabbing pain shot through the limb, causing her to fall face-first onto the ground. The agony of hitting the ground made her gasp and inhale broken leaves and dirt.

Her arm was broken. Her nose probably was, too. She'd had broken limbs before, and falling from such a high height sure would have caused one. Wondered if the water had made the fall less dangerous, because she should have had more broken bones.

Del spat out a small rock and rolled onto her back, pushing herself out of the water with only her feet. She laid on her back, staring up at the tower in the sky, seeing the blackness somehow darker than everything else around it. It made her uneasy, staring at the thing. As if it were waiting for her to make a move and would _laser_ her to death or something, the minute she did.

A glint of blue through the darkness caught her eye, dangling over the edge of the pedestal. Del pushed herself up, carefully, and squinted.

Kasimir! Her eyes popped open, remembering exactly what'd happened. The jet pack on his armor had failed, causing them to fall―he'd hit one of the stone fingers and bounced off, dropping her into the water. His path through the air must've landed him in the middle of it all, hanging dangerously near the edge.

Del pried herself from the ground and looked around, finding a path that led around the inside of the stone bowl and up onto the pedestal. With some effort―she felt the bruises from her own landing acutely―she made her way to the middle ground. Kasimir was lying with his head and arms over the edge, his waist caught in-between two rocks.

Without a thought otherwise she marched across the circle of metal laying flush with the earth and grabbed Kasimir with her good arm, awkwardly pulling him out of the rocks and flipping him onto his back. He was either unconscious or dead, but she couldn't tell which with the crazy futuristic armor on.

Del parked herself on the ground nearby and used the scraps of her shirt to wipe her face, grimacing in pain as she rubbed her nose the wrong way. Her arm ached but didn't give any more stabs until she wrapped the bloodstained fabric around her elbow, tucking in an end and making a makeshift sling.

The air was quiet. Nothing stirred about the tower, but for herself. Eventually, she moved off and stripped berries from the bushes, mashing them into her face hungrily. Her stomach groaned with pain but was silenced by the meager offering.

She missed her mom's meatloaf. It was her least favorite food, the overcooked beef too dry to stomach and every other bite full of tasteless crackers, but she would have done _anything_ to be at home eating it. To be at home, at the table, flicking peas at her sister and claiming innocence. To sit down to dinner in a warm house, with people who drove her crazy and never once imagine that they might hurt her.

Crying only made her face hurt more. Del sucked in snot, wiping away her tears, and looked back at Kasimir. Would the memories fade, with time? She hoped so. Every little thing that she remembered only made this world feel so much more terrifying and hopeless.

Hot showers. Big Macs. The smell of her dad's leather chair. Fighting over the T.V. remote, sticky with blackberry jam after her sister got her hands on it. The light of her cell phone in the dark of her room, when she stayed up too late.

 _...Toliet paper._ Del breathed out, letting the memories fade away. Even if she forgot them forever, it wouldn't hurt any less.

Kasimir stirred, finally, planting his feet flat onto the ground. The armor righted itself with a scrape of metal against metal, making her ears hurt. He made an excruciating noise, pain and something else, as he was pushed upward involuntarily.

The sight was ridiculous but also cringe-worthy, and she made a face at him. Flapped her good arm at him and gave him a weary smile. "Good morning, sunshine," she said, halfheartedly.

He didn't move for a moment. Suddenly he reached up and ripped the helmet from his head, turning and vomiting into the rocks. Chunks of red splattered everywhere, disgustingly. Del fought nausea, gagging as she looked away.

"Fuck!" he shouted, throwing the helmet onto the ground. It bounced into the metal circle, spinning in a slow oblong until it stopped. She glanced back at him, saw his face splattered with blood and vomit. His eyes met hers, full of anger and pain.

Kasimir put his hands on his hips and moved his gaze away, breathing heavily. He stared out into the sky, his face slowly turning to stone. Del turned her attention back to her arm, tightening the sling as it slipped.

"Well, we're alive," she muttered, to herself. Not that it meant anything. She didn't even know what happened after you died on the Island. How you came back, or whatever.

"Not for long," Kasimir shot back, moving across the ground to retrieve his helmet. He stared at it, then shook it with both hands violently. Oozing blood covered his scalp, a large gash at his hairline. The skin was buckled, pushed back from his skull. Del couldn't bear to look directly at it.

"Not if we don't get out of here," he added, looking up at the tower above them.

She hadn't wanted to look up. As she did, she could see the "legs" of the tower hovering just above them. The green light was blinding, forcing her to look away.

"Then let's go," she said, pushing herself up from the ground. The motion made her broken arm twinge in ache.

"There's nowhere to go," he snapped.

"We can't go south." Del pulled the fabric up and tried to tie it together with one hand. "But we can go north. Probably a safer bet than east or west."

"And how would you know?" Kasimir dropped the helmet again, moving to her side. He pulled the sling up and tied it into a rough knot above her shoulder. He wasn't nice about it, either.

Del hissed in pain. "Even if you think I'm some dumbshit from the boonies, I do pay attention." She pointed to the south, the land less mountainous than the north. "That's Willow Tree's shit, right there." She pointed at the ground below them. "This tower is _also_ his shit. We're in Runner territory. We need to go north."

Kasimir's hands stilled on the knot, then dropped to his side. He looked back where she had pointed, and made a tutting noise. "You're right," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "But we can't get over the wall."

Del frowned at him for a moment. She sat herself onto a rock and looked up at him expectantly, clearing her throat. "Then what _do_ we do?"

"We _die."_


	37. Guilt

Note: It's time for some much-needed character development.

* * *

The girl stared up at him, her face incredulous and brows furrowed over dark eyes. They were reflecting green energy now, instead of firelight. For a long while she said nothing, her mouth opening and closing as if to speak. Then she burst into laughter.

Kasimir glared down at her, pain rocketing through his head. His helmet's seal had broken upon landing, causing the facing edge to push his scalp back from his skull. Blood still dripped into his eyebrow, and from there onto his cheek.

It was nothing more than he'd experienced before, though the headache was something he wished had not joined. The girl's laughter sputtered out into the night, echoing through the rocks and back onto his ears again. His temper flared, tempting him into action.

"I'm sorry, Kasimir, but you're so―" the girl threw her hand up, sounding exasperated. "Dramatic. Every time something bad happens around you, you get moody or―or downright _depressed._ How did you ever manage to survive?"

He breathed in sharply, turning his head but not his eyes. They remained locked onto hers, her mirth grating on his aching mind. He tightened his hands on his biceps, breathing out and trying to calm himself.

"The Island is not something to belittle," he said, carefully measuring his words. "Anyone you meet would kill you, just to steal the clothes off your back."

"Yeah, good luck with that," she snickered, covering her chest with her free arm. She let loose a hysterical titter.

"That is exactly the attitude that will get you killed, and quickly," he muttered.

"Well, I'm sorry," she whined, rolling her eyes. "It works for Jake, don't it?"

"Jake has been killed more times than I have," he snapped at her. "That is not an indicator of his success."

"It doesn't fucking matter, though, does it." She looked away from him, scoffing. "You just come back, anyway."

"It's not as easy as you think," Kasimir grumbled.

The girl shut her mouth with a snap of teeth. He realized, after a minute or two of utter silence, that she was waiting for him to explain. A result of his behavior toward her on the beach, when he'd told her repeatedly to be quiet and he would explain.

He drew in a breath and steeled himself for the conversation. "You asked me before, what happened when you die in the beacons."

"You didn't answer me," she whispered.

For a good reason, he knew. If she had even the faintest idea of what was truly going on...

Kasimir looked up at the thing, hovering above them. Remembered the first time he'd activated the stand in the center, arranging the tributes around it and placing his hand on the diamond. The veil of darkness that had overcome him and the others... the sight of Jake Ashley's grin disappearing in a flash as they stared down the largest spider he could ever conceive of, existing.

He shook his head, slowly. "Everyone who died in this place was never seen again. It's the same with the other towers. With the volcano. I..." he took another deep breath and held it, turning away from her and lowering his head.

The shame of it all. Why he felt such a coward. He released his breath, and shook his head. "I survived because others died. They wasted their lives for nothing."

"Why for nothing?" He could hear the curiosity in her voice, knew that if he looked she would be staring up at him with that same big-eyed look she had before.

"Because there is no way out," he replied, the sinking feeling in his chest becoming more painful than his scalp. "There is nowhere left to go."

"See, that's what I meant," she muttered. "Drama! Can't you talk plainly?"

Kasimir shot her a cold look. "You may think it nothing to carry the deaths of hundreds of people on your conscience. I do not."

"I never said that," she answered, defensively. Her face filled with blood, flushing the color of a dark wine. "I understand―well, I _mean―"_ She blew out a heavy sigh, rubbing her forehead. "You never told me anything about it, at all. How am I supposed to―to know what to say?"

That _was_ true. He felt the regret, as he understood. If he had actually prepared her for what they would face in this venture, she might well have proved herself worthy before the truce with Matus. She would have left him alone on the beach, and when the Stalkers came he would have been taken away―

To meet with Sammon, the leader of the Unnamed tribe. He assumed the man was seeking him because he'd discovered the treasure trove of equipment and ammunition tucked away in the Eagle Gate. A trove that included a very specific piece of equipment that only those who had gone into the beacons knew how to operate properly.

He watched the pulsing energy of his armor out of the corner of his eyes. Why he'd bothered to recover his armor, he could not begin to understand. It made him feel―

 _Powerful._ Something he'd lacked on the Earth itself. Something he'd lost on the Island, despite his talents and ability.

That was why the girl made him feel so horrible. She empowered him because he'd kept her useless, made her need him―and she'd fought him every step of the way, because she didn't want to feel powerless herself.

And _that_ was why she was his "burden", as Duval had said. Everything that had happened to her, to himself, was his fault. Kasimir covered his face with one hand, feeling ashamed. He was only mad at himself. To carry it over onto the girl was embarrassing.

"You wouldn't know," he said. "Nothing I have done has prepared you for this place. That you've survived this far is a damned miracle."

She looked mildly surprised when he glanced through his fingers, thoughts beating into him the shame of what he'd done. "Um," she started, making a face. "Okay?"

He knew he should apologize. Everything he'd done or said was touch and go, until this point. He'd sympathized with her pain, when she realized she was dead back home―but he'd scared the hell out of her on the beach after he'd shot Mara. He'd saved her from Duval, promised to protect her from the man, but let her walk right into the hands of the enemy at Riverbend.

He'd been correct in thinking he couldn't ally himself with anyone, or support them. And that made him even more a coward, than he'd been in the past.

"God," he whispered, closing his eyes. He squeezed his hand over his face, feeling the incomparable ache in his scalp grow more intense. "I'm so sorry."

The girl swallowed audibly, cradling her broken arm. "I―" she started, but he interrupted her.

"Every time you come down the light, you lose more of yourself." He dropped his hand, turning to face her. "You become simple-minded. Your body becomes weak. If you die too many times, you... stop coming down."

She didn't answer, right away. Sat on the rock, looking through him like he wasn't there, then down at her implant with a dirty look. She stood, abruptly, her broken arm banging against her chest. "Goddammit!" she groaned. "Can't _anything_ make sense here?"

"It never gets any better," he murmured, to himself.

"Well," the girl said, her face filled with irritation. "Okay, so we can't make it over the wall. But what _can_ we do?"

Kasimir stood in place, without an answer. Without the element needed to power his armor, he felt once again useless―he fought the feeling, reminding himself again of his stupidity.

"Oh, my God," the girl whined, rubbing her eye in annoyance. "How did Mara ever put up with you? Did she like, _beat_ the words out of you?"

He laughed, then. Couldn't help it. As inconsistent as he'd been, the girl carried on without apparently noticing or caring. Kasimir put his hands on his hips and lowered his head, chuckling through his nose and unsuccessfully trying to still the outburst.

"She was a different person when I first met her," he said, lightly, once he'd calmed the laughing fit. The girl scowled at him. "I was different, too. Everyone changes, with time."

"Yeah, well, it'd be nice if you changed and talked to me for real," she grumbled, staring him down.

"I'll try," he said, feeling dizziness overtaking him. He lifted a hand and touched his scalp, taking an involuntary step backward.

"You don't look so hot," she mentioned. "Like someone tried to scalp you."

"We're both in trouble, here," he muttered. Looked about them, trying to arrange his thoughts better that they could leave without being harmed. He could barely remember what Willow Tree looked like, much less the layout of the guards on the walls. And the chance of that information being the same was nil.

"We could die," he said, slowly. "The quickest way out of here would be to come down the light."

"And end up on the beach again?" She shook her head. "The Unnamed are probably all over that place by now. Also, I don't _want_ to."

Kasimir chuckled again, shaking his head to clear the thought from his mind. "Tek doesn't work without a power source. Mine is gone." He gestured to the rifle, thrown to the ground when he'd landed. "Can't even use the damn gun."

The girl coughed, wiping her mouth gingerly. "Gimme a minute," she said, quietly. She turned and coughed more, spitting onto the ground.

He spent the time studying the rocks that enclosed the tribute circle, his mind drawing a blank on any kind of alternate plan. The girl's implant flickered into being as she held the button down with her bad hand, making a small groan of pain. She studied the screen, her head moving back and forth as she read.

Kasimir watched the back of her head, seeing the fizzling hexagons of the menu as she changed the screen. A list of objects appeared, their text blurred by the distance between them. He moved closer, staring over the crown of her head, waiting patiently for her to be done.

To his surprise, he saw that she had learned to make weaponry. Bear traps, metal tools, armor, pistols and rifles, all were listed in the menu. He narrowed his eyes at the sight, a rumble beginning in his throat without his knowing.

"I told you I made a truce," she said, clearing her own throat with difficulty.

"Matus would not part with this knowledge willingly," he told her, his head seized with pain. "What did you trade?"

"Probably more than I oughta," she replied. "Said I'd make guns and traps and shit for him. Asked him not to attack you and the others."

Kasimir sighed. "And?"

She colored, under the green light of the beacon. "A favor," she muttered. "To be determined later."

He swore, turning away from her. Had he not sent her into that place she wouldn't be in the precarious position she was, owing the Sailback leader. God only knew what the man might come up with, to repay the debt―and with the Unnamed tearing through Riverbend, that favor might be sold on.

The girl dropped her arm, looking down at her feet and wobbling slightly from side to side. "I didn't think I had a choice," she said, sullenly. "We need the guns. You promised Jake, too."

"I know," he told her, closing his eyes. The blood from his head had stopped, crusting over on his forehead. He could barely put two and two together, much less begin to understand how to escape this place.

"If I had only let you leave," he added, ruefully. None of this would have happened.

"Don't start that again," she sniffed. "Out of all the assholes on this Island, I think you're the _least_ annoying."

Her words brought a smile to his face, and the memory of her snot-nosed tantrum on the beach to mind. "And you're a stupid teenager," he agreed.

"Ugh," she groaned, rolling her head on her shoulders. "Jake was right, you never forget."

Kasimir laughed, but it was cut short as the dizziness in his head overtook him. He stumbled to the side, grabbing out for a rock. The girl said something, moving to grab him.

"...go anywhere until you're able to walk in a straight line," she finished, when the world had stopped spinning about him.

He mumbled something in reply, words in his throat unable to straighten themselves out. The girl shook her head. "I doubt anyone would look here," she added. "Think we'll be okay for a rest."

He nodded, slumping onto the ground in exhaustion.


	38. Make Do

Note: I'm not happy with this chapter but I really can't figure out why. (Edit: Again, whoops. I need to watch my words.)

* * *

Jake opened the one eye he _could,_ blinking furiously at the man standing above him. Goose was hogtied on the ground nearby, tranq darts studding his body. Soul's dilo had been killed, a pack of raptors making short work of the small dinosaur as they fought one another for its meat.

A massacre of compys littered the path outside of their guard post. Cocha was gagged, but her smothered howls of rage could still be heard. She struggled against her bindings, her face as swollen as his was, blood dampening her forehead. She was enraged that they'd lost the army. He didn't blame her.

Jake glanced up at the tree taking root in the guard post roof. Three sets of beady eyes stared at him through the moss, before withdrawing into the darkness. He breathed out, sighing to himself. At least Sheba had gotten herself out of the fray. If she'd been killed, he didn't know what he might do to these assholes.

A carno peered down at them, white eyes rolling in its thick skull. The rider, sitting high above them with a haughty look on his face, issued an order and moved away. The ground shook with his steps, dust kicking up and billowing about the prisoners.

They hadn't known the guard post was occupied, of course. The only thing that seemed out of the ordinary was how quiet the air had been, when they approached. And the attack had been just as surprising as the one on Riverbend.

Only a matter of time, Jake expected. He felt more wounded than ever, kicking himself for not seeing either ambush coming. Was losing his touch, not able to plan ahead. Maybe―

Maybe it was just too much. Maybe he'd gotten dumb in his "old age". First was Heart and his moll, making a fool of him almost every step of the way. Then Matus, and he'd definitely agreed to be sold up the river way too fast for his own good. Getting caught by the Unnamed assholes was just icing on his idiot cake.

He turned his head to see the other Woodsmen lying with their backs to the sun, leafy shadows moving back and forth over them. With a sickening crunch, the carno bit into Kim. Jake watched it eating the man, splattering blood against trees as it shook its head back and forth. Apparently it was enjoying the meal.

Jake looked away, setting his eyes on the guard watching over them. "So ya'll gonna tell us what's goin' on, or are ya just gonna let us marinate in our own piss?" he said, loudly.

The man gave a dismissive gesture, making an about-face so that he was no longer looking at them. Jake glanced at Cocha, seeing her hands working carefully over the knot binding her feet. "I'm really sorry about this, babe," he said, quietly. "Ya know I wouldn't―"

Cocha muffled something low and hateful, her fingers carefully picking apart the fibrous rope at her ankles. Jake offered her a half-felt smile. "Naw," he said, as if he'd understood her. "It's all my fault. Goose said."

Cocha's head jerked up, her eyebrows pulled together over black eyes, the stream of blood from her head wound soaking into the gag jammed firmly into her mouth. She glanced to the Unnamed guard, then back to Jake. His smile transformed into a guilt-ridden grin. "Do what ya gotta," he told her.

Her hands worked more quickly, shredding the fiber aggressively. Jake cleared his throat, coughing on the inhale. The guard looked over his shoulder, just as Jake drew back and slammed his forehead into a nearby tree trunk.

Christ, but that _fucking_ hurt! He pulled away, bark falling from his face as he wobbled in a small circle. He steeled himself and did it again, and yet again, opening the skin on his forehead. Blood coated the tree, his face, and everything in a two-foot radius.

The guard reacted appropriately, moving to stop him. Jake coughed blood at the man, spitting at him. A tooth knocked loose in the scuffle hit his face with a satisfying splat.

Cocha was up and gone when he looked again, her cloth-covered feet leaving little trace as she fled through the trees. Jake cracked a grin at the guard holding him back, his eye closed with swelling and the other bloodshot through. His front tooth was cracked, the other gone. He swayed in place, his head full of overlapping circles and the worst hangover he could ever imagine.

An alarm was raised, the carno and rider bounding off through the woods to find the prisoner. She would be caught, he expected.

But Jake smiled, anyway.

* * *

"Eugh," Del groaned, cringing to herself as she pried the skin away from Kasimir's skull and laid it back into place. He was nearly unconscious, lying against the rocks and barely moving. She patted the skin gently, making sure it fit the wound, and noticed his hair was growing in fairly fast.

Hers hadn't grown past her shoulders, but was still a mess. She tucked loose bits into her ponytail, trying to control it. The effort seemed futile when she bent down to retrieve Kasimir's pack and it all went right into her eyes.

Del scrounged through the pack―he'd sat on it when he collapsed and the whole inside was sticky with mashed berries―pulling out a serviceable water skin and some juice-stained jerky. She'd hoped he'd put his clothing in there, but he hadn't. The chill in the air became more noticeable, goosebumps popping up along her arms.

She coaxed him into drinking a little water. The wound on his head had begun to heal almost immediately. She'd noticed the same for her arm, that the swelling was going down and the pain lessening with each passing minute. She wondered if Jake's spear wound would have healed―except that he'd had internal bleeding, puking up blood and what smelled like shit. Maybe he'd asked her to leave him unconscious because he didn't want to be awake while he healed, or maybe he just thought it was easier to die and come back. Like Kasimir mentioned.

With what he'd told her, about coming down the light too many times, she wondered if it was a good idea that Jake _had_ died. He seemed the kind to get himself into trouble more often than he ought to, and he'd have to have died a _lot_ of times because of it.

More than Kasimir, as he'd claimed, and that made her wonder how many times Kasimir had died. The sheer amount of time he'd spent on the Island...

Del turned her attention back onto the situation. Kasimir had been worried they would be seen, insisting he get rid of the Tek armor. His words were starting to slur, becoming repetitive as he tried to make himself clear. All she could do was tell him to calm down.

But, after mulling it over, she decided that he was right. His armor was far too obvious. It needed to be hidden―if she could get it off of him, what with her arm all messed up and his almost knocked-out state.

Del sighed, removing her makeshift sling and making a fist. The puffiness had gone down, some. It would have to make do, for now.

She tilted Kasimir to the side, looking over the plates. He let out a loud groan, closing his eyes. The armor was a complicated mess, covered in twinkling lights, but she did manage to find what looked like a release on his side under his ribcage. When she pressed it the chest piece of the Tek armor opened, folding itself into a dense but lightweight stack of synthetic plates.

It took longer for her to find the release for his legs, but the gloves and boots came off easily. Del stacked them all in a neat pile and carried them away, covering them with brush at the base of the pathway. On her way back up, she had a thought. She stopped and examined her implant again, scrolling through the list of items it'd stored.

Everything she knew how to make was listed in a tab labelled "Engrams". Things she didn't know were listed, too, and she tapped on a blacked-out picture of what looked like pants. The knowledge was immediately in her head, as it had been with the others. It was doable, she told herself. To be safe, she selected all the other parts of the outfit and set about collecting the necessary resources.

Now that she knew how to use the implant effectively, she could do so much more. She didn't know why Matus and the others couldn't use their implants in the same way, nor why they didn't understand the blueprints as she had. The only difference between them was her relative newness to the Island, the time period she'd come from on Earth... and maybe that she hadn't come down the light but for her arrival.

If staying alive made her more powerful, she felt that was an important reason _not_ to.

Del made herself a new shirt before anything else. The chill in the air was growing, fractals of frost growing on the rocks near to her. As she threaded fiber together into strips of cloth, she studied Kasimir. She'd never really taken a good look at him, even when she'd first met him.

He had to be about six foot tall, with short blond hair and beard. When he'd come down the light, his hair was a thin stubble against his tanned skin. Kasimir had a well-defined jaw and thick neck, his face neither attractive nor ugly. He reminded her of a thick wooden board, how straight in shape he was.

He was also covered in some decently-sized bruises, about the areas where the plates had been on his armor. The thought made her own bruises hurt, under her ribs and along the backs of her arms.

She looked down at herself and flushed. It wasn't her body. She remembered how fat she'd been, back on Earth. Maybe she might've looked like she did now, if she'd actually _exercised_ instead of pigging out on nachos and pizza all the time. She hadn't even been able to see her jawline, the last time she'd looked in a mirror. And she sure wasn't trying to remember her pants size.

Though... if she were weighing pros and cons of being on the Island, looking like a buff model _would_ be a pro. Not that that could outweigh all the cons, but...

Del sighed, trying to focus on the task at hand.

She had to measure Kasimir more closely than she felt comfortable with, while putting his pants together. She could feel him shivering, and laid a hand onto his shoulder. His skin was cool to the touch, clammy-looking. His head wound was nearly healed, but he hadn't moved in a while. She gently shook his shoulder, frowning.

"Kasimir," she said, urgently. He stirred, moving an arm stiffly. Her frowning faded. Good, he was still alive.

"Wha..." he started, but was interrupted by a cough.

"Just making sure you didn't die," she answered, more cheerfully than she felt.

"Thank you," he answered, quietly. His voice sounded like he was very far away.

"I made you some pants," she offered, holding the cloth up. Her fingers had taken on the chill of his shoulder. If he was that cold on the outside... Del shook him again. "Get up, Kasimir."

He sat up, though he moved very carefully―as if his joints were frozen solid. It was nearing the turn of the day and that was usually when the Island was coldest, she knew. She let him pull on the rough pants, while she checked on his scalp. Almost entirely healed. Maybe the bruises would go next.

Kasimir grunted with the effort of pulling the cloth over his hips from a sitting position. Del moved away from him, opening the display again and chewing on a lip.

She was out of ideas. Kasimir was out of ideas, too―his thought about dying was ridiculous, even if it could be considered a back-up plan. Maybe they could make a rope or something―or find a weak spot in the walls? There had to be a way out, even if they ended up fighting the Runners―

As she wondered what to do, she realized she'd never been told _why_ the Runners were so terrible. She'd borrowed Jake's attitude about the tribe―he wasn't fond of them, for sure―but she still didn't know much about them. Kasimir and Mara had led a war against them, to get to the green tower. Willow Tree had fought back, of course, because this was his land―but who was really at fault?

Del removed her hand from her implant and looked back at Kasimir. He was sitting, as if dumbfounded, staring into the darkness away from them.

"Are you okay?" she asked, in a low voice.

Kasimir made a sound in his throat, without looking at her. Maybe he _had_ come down the light too many times. She paused, staring at the back of his head. The world seemed so quiet, around them―

"Cold," he answered, finally. He pushed himself up from the ground, placing a palm onto his side as he moved across the ground toward her. "The armor?"

Del flapped a hand at the path down to the water. "Hid it," she said, grabbing up a handful of fibers and beginning another strip of cloth.

Kasimir nodded, lowering himself to the ground again but beside her. His knee knocked into hers, as he crossed his legs under himself. She watched him from the corner of her eye, seeing his hands shaking as he grabbed a bunch of fiber and followed her lead.

Neither of them said a word as they worked, the only sound around them the humming of energy from the tower. Del could see the glint of green coming from the ground, pulsing lights that were mesmerizing and alien at the same time.

A voice came from the darkness, suddenly, startling them both. Del's head jerked to the side, staring at the ramp leading up to the metal circle. The owner of the voice popped his head up over the edge of the pedestal.

"Wotcha, Soul-of-Iron," he said, grinning widely.


	39. Slingshots

The mosasaur growled lowly, slowing to a stop in the deeper water around the Footpaw. Mara didn't wait for the beast to halt but dove into the sea and glided along the bottom, moving silently through the weeds. She came up onto the shore in one smooth move and walked across the sand, hissing at a spitter as it paused to cock its head at her. The dinosaur scuttled away quickly, its feathered tail disappearing into the bushes.

The remains of Kasimir's camp were located atop a rock wall, overlooking the narrow and shallow inlet. At some point, a fire had grown out of control and burned through the dry thatch hut, the ashes of a foundation blowing about her when she bent down to examine the site.

Half of the hut was standing askew. Mara ran a hand along the exposed frame, feeling the comparable freshness of the wood. A new addition. She curled her lip in disgust. To build new meant he had intended to stay on the beach, whether because he had no want to rejoin the Island's tribes or―

Mara snapped her attention to the destroyed foundation, catching sight of a leather-bound object lying under a ruined waterskin. The waterskin had burst open from heat, saving the book from burning.

The back cover and edges flaked away as she pried it from the ash, opening it. His journal. Her fingertips smudged the contents as she carelessly picked apart the pages. The entries were measured with days, a number she knew to be long. He'd spent more than a lifetime, on the Island, even before she'd met him.

The lot of it seemed to be musings. Question marks ended his tall handwriting more often than not, as it wove across the dampened paper. Near to the last pages there were drawings, detailed and beautiful reproductions of plants and animals on the Island.

She'd forgotten much of their conquest of the Island, but Kasimir had recorded everything. She remembered him sitting atop her beast, cross-legged and scribbling away with a piece of charcoal, his star-filled eyes stopping every now and then to stare out over the water. She'd been content, then. Happy, even.

Mara hadn't seen his drawings, before. She turned the page again, her curiosity piqued. A portrait took up the majority of the next leaf, an angry-looking young woman with dark eyes and a full mouth―

Mara ripped the page out, snapping the book shut and crumpling the paper in one hand. The bespawling _bitch!_ She raised her arm to throw the goddamned thing into the water, stopping herself at the last moment.

Her arm shook with rage. It wasn't that she still _wanted_ for that callous bastard. He'd done what she'd never expected he would, shot her in the head, forced her down the light. He'd done _that_ to protect the fool woman he'd been travelling with, his new tribemate, something she herself had never been―

He'd never loved her, couldn't have! She ground her teeth angrily, drawing blood from her cheeks. That he'd never _allowed_ her to join the Iron March, that he'd never taken her into the tribute circles to fight the monsters―it must mean that he'd never trusted her. He'd taken her kin, lost them to the floating stones, oh yes, and he'd wanted nothing from her but that. Sacrifices to throw into the maws of beasts that he refused to face alone, as if they were so much waste!

Her fingers tightened on the crumpled paper. She stared at the black markings peeking through the folds of the picture, furiously. Jealousy spiked through her head, redness in her vision tinting the world around her.

He'd never drawn _her_ portrait.

Mara shoved the paper into her mouth, tearing at it and viciously ripping it with teeth and hands, spitting the pulped result onto the ground. She slammed a foot onto an unmolested eye, crushing it into the dirt. "Whore _cow!"_ she seethed.

A hush fell over the beach, the chattering of dodos and seagulls vanished in all but a thought. Mara immediately crouched, scrabbling along the rocks and into cover.

Two riders on raptors approached from the north, pulling reins up and stopping their beasts along the Weathertop. One pulled a spyglass, gazing out over the water toward the Shock as they lay in wait. They wore red, Sammon's color.

Mara shoved the book into her pack and scaled the cliff easily, landing on all fours at the apex. She growled as she moved through the brush, catching the attention of the raptors before the men.

"Prince Sammon sends a missive," one spoke, and rattled off a list of honorifics that Mara immediately forgot. Whatever the man chose to call her, she would not bear repeating. Such fanciful words were for twaddles and twats.

"Give me that," she said, striding across the ground to snatch the rough paper scroll from his hands. She read the words twice before looking up at the men with suspicion.

An order to ambush she was inclined not to follow. Why trust the man? He meant to use her as Kasimir had, and that could only mean ill in the end. The only real difference between the two men was that Sammon was surely honest about his intention.

And in return for her compliance, he gave―

Mara ran a hand along the side of the sniper rifle, humming gently to herself. Her fingers drew a path along the hand guard, down to the magazine, and teased the trigger obscenely as her mouth twisted into a perverted smile.

Sammon's men unloaded their beasts, weapons plenty to complete her orders. She examined the sniper rifle for a moment more, then whistled loudly over the water. Several tribemates swam into the inlet, halting their beasts before the shore.

"Load everything and recamp," she ordered the Shock, handing the rifle to the nearest man. She turned to face Sammon's soldiers, her hands on her hips. "Sunrise?" she asked, to confirm.

The response was affirmative. Her face began to hurt from smiling ear-to-ear.

"I'll see you afield," she said, moving away and into the water. She didn't bother to see if the men were gone when she mounted her beast, spurring it into the depths and away from prying eyes.

At dawn, the Shock would attack.

And she knew _exactly_ where she wanted to begin.

* * *

"Colder than a well digger's arse, innit?" Duval said.

The nearly naked man looked far healthier than he had before. His ribs no longer showed, the muscles in his chest much more defined. His teeth weren't blackened, his hair a fuzz of black across his scalp. The beard was gone, full cheeks pushed back with his grin. He even stood straighter, without the hunch he'd had as an old man.

The girl made a low noise in her throat, baring her teeth aggressively. Kasimir was amused by that. Her blatant dislike of the man was predictable and comforting.

"It'll pass," Kasimir said, shaving a piece of wood into a rod.

The three were kneeling behind a stand of rocks on the eastern end of Runner land, staring down at a dip in the land. Some hundred yards away, the wall separating them from freedom rose out of the ground. No people were atop it, though Kasimir had noticed the guard position easily. A bed and a chair had been set onto a stone foundation just inside.

Trees concealed their position for the moment, though the trade-off was that they could be set upon by any manner of beast living within. Kasimir finished the rod by setting a stone as the head and tying it down with strips of cloth. It went into the pile of spears he'd already crafted, his hand reaching out for another piece of wood.

"We're clear on this plan?" Duval glanced over his shoulder, at the land and their target. He winked at the girl, who was stringing several slingshots.

She glared unashamedly at him, eyes narrowed and mouth drawn into a pinch. She didn't seem amenable to any idea the man came up with, even if it were a moderately well-thought-out one.

"I don't think it's gonna work," she muttered, snapping the empty slingshot at Duval.

"Oh, ye of little faith," the man replied, laughter in his voice. He put his palms together, looking upward and tilting his head to the side.

"You ain't no saint," she spat, "so you can fuck right off with that shit."

Duval rolled his eyes at her, turning to the side. "Never said you had to be a fan," he said, picking up one of the slingshots and examining it.

The girl huffed and looked over at Kasimir, who fitted another spearhead. "I was _really_ hoping we'd never see him again," she said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder at the man.

He smiled, stifling a laugh. "You should give him a chance, at least."

The girl sighed, looking up and out over the land. "This isn't going to be like the last plan, is it?"

"It's a good plan," he replied. "Do not worry."

"I ain't worried," she grumbled, the pupils of her eyes almost overshadowing the iris. "I'm fucking _annoyed."_

Duval lifted the slingshot and snapped the leather thong onto the side of her head, tutting. "Don't talk about me as if I'm not here," he said, rudely.

The girl turned her gaze onto him―and Kasimir was surprised to see Duval actually looked away with a wince. He could only imagine the look she was giving him. He cleared his throat, tapping the girl's shoulder with two knuckles.

"Enough," he murmured, holding out a spear. She grabbed it, hooking it into a strap of leather at her waist.

"It's easy to outrun the brontos," Duval told her, taking his own spear from Kasimir. "The biggest problem will be staying in range to hit them. They're going to swing at you if you're too close."

"Use the spear to defend yourself if anything else attacks," Kasimir added.

"Are we seriously going to be able to tame one with this?" she asked, holding up a slingshot and waggling it.

"Where there's a will, there's a way," Duval answered, cheerfully. "Now get moving."

He stood, moving over the rocks and crouch-walking down toward the long-neck they'd chosen. It was alone, standing tall among a gaggle of spitters and a pair of three-horns―an important distinction, Duval pointed out to the girl. Mated long-necks were far more trouble.

Kasimir followed behind the two as they picked their way through the rocks and brush, breaking formation to run up and ram a spear into the nearest spitter. It hissed, angrily, attracting the attention of the rest. He drew them away from the plant eaters, as per the plan.

The dinos chased him as far as the treeline, fast on his heels. Kasimir looped around through the cover of foliage and jumped up onto a rock, jabbing down as they approached him. In the distance, he heard the bellow of the long-neck and the shuddering footsteps of the beast as the girl and Duval attempted to knock it out.

With a slingshot, the attempt would take ages. He put the spear through the neck of the nearest spitter, trying to climb the rock and get to him. Green spit flew through the air and hit his shoulder, another one flanking him from behind. His spear broke when it entered the beast's mouth, lodging in its tongue.

That was why he'd made more. Kasimir was sticky with acid and sweat by the time he was done taking down the pack, patches of his skin burning under the spittle. He moved down from the rock, holstering his spear and pulling a slingshot to join the others.

The girl had chosen to run in circles, widening out and drawing in as she needed to. Duval was fleet of foot, moving faster than Kasimir could ever match, as he made an attack and vanished back into the rocks repeatedly. The long-neck bellowed insistently as it flung its tail back and forth, rivulets of blood streaming from its head and neck.

Kasimir joined the fray just in time to take the tail to the chest, his breath knocked from him and body flying backward through the air. He impacted a rock, feeling a rib snap inside his chest, arms and legs sprawled out ungraciously.

For a brief moment, he stared at the blue sky above them. Clouds passed over, slowly, a gentle breeze blowing through the rocks. The ringing in his ears abated.

"Get up!" the girl shrieked, launching herself over the rock and down onto the ground in front of him. She aimed and loosed another missile, the long-neck's head passing over them as it stampeded toward him. Kasimir turn to the side just as the beast stamped the ground, cracking the rock he'd been lying against.

Minutes passed. Kasimir stumbled back and forth, keeping the long-neck's attention away from the others. He had several cracked ribs and a severely-bruised stomach by the time it collapsed onto the ground, head and neck curled around a tree.

Duval threw a hand into the air victoriously, casting his slingshot to the side and dropping to his knees. He pulled berries from the bushes, carrying them by handfuls to rest near the long-neck's mouth.

The girl moved to Kasimir's side, staring at him. "You okay?" she asked, worriedly.

"I'll live," he mumbled, holding his ribs in pain.

She nodded, her face lined with concern, and followed him as he wobbled down toward the long-neck. Duval was murmuring something to the beast, rubbing its neck and smiling. Kasimir sank onto the ground, leaning back against its knobbly skin.

"We're going to need a lot of berries," Duval told the girl. She went off, scouting the bases of rocks.

Kasimir stared across the small clearing, watching the three-horn plod along the ground. The girl crossed his field of vision several times, dropping shirt-fuls of berries with the rest. His ribs began to heal.

He breathed out in relief. It could have been worse, he supposed. The three-horn moved closer to them, crushing leaves and berries in its beak. Another three-horn joined it, milling about. Kasimir blinked. A third one had shown, in the split-second it took.

 _"Goddammit,"_ he grunted, as the Runners ambushed them.


	40. Quickly Now

Note: I finally finished the chapter. Had some ideas that I wanted to write that never seemed to pan out, followed by a mental health issue and various small family emergencies. For now, I am content that this is the furthest I can go with this part. Sorry about the six month hiatus.

* * *

"This brings back memories," Crazy Bones grinned. "All these years and they've never changed their tune."

Del, Kasimir, and Crazy Bones were kneeling on a wooden scaffold, their arms tied to a strong length of fencing. Crazy Bones was acting much the same as he had the first time she'd met him, his eyes glittering and a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. Del's stomach was boiling deep down inside her, lit by the fire of uncertainty. Kasimir was slumped across the fence beside her, his breathing shallow. He'd been unconscious when the Runners came upon them in the clearing, passed out on the rocks where he'd collapsed.

...And now they were tied up and helpless. She really should've asked more about the Runners before they'd gone after the long-neck. Ignoring the pain in her belly and Crazy Bone's rambling, she eyed up the village around her.

The sun was rising very steadily in the east, but hadn't come over the walls that bordered Runner territory. They were easily thirty feet high, built of stone. The trees had been cleared around the base, leaving a good sight-line to the small guard posts built into them.

In the thick of things, small stone houses had been built in orderly rows. Based on how many there seemed to be, Del could tell the Runners were an extremely large tribe―the Shock only had twenty or so creatures, but these people were easily a hundred thick and had many more dinosaurs.

She'd seen several triceratops plowing a field, large feet stamping down the rows. Other creatures were being led out of a paddock to her left, while an enormous important-looking building to her right loomed over it all. Wooden windows hung open in the chill of predawn, firelight flickering inside.

People moved around the platform they'd been tied to, some stopping to stare at the captives for a brief moment before dashing away. Every one of them seemed to be in a hurry, some riding three to a beast on their way into the fields.

...No wonder they were called Runners. The only few who weren't moving were their guards, holding torches and spears as they kept watch over their prisoners.

"Soul," Crazy Bones said, "no matter what, you shut that pretty mouth of yours."

Del groaned under her breath, closing her eyes and letting out as calm a breath as she could manage. Her stomach flopped painfully. _Take your own damn advice,_ she thought, remembering the _last_ time someone had told her that.

She opened her eyes in time to watch one of the guards stepping forward, slapping Crazy Bones on his bound arms with her spear. An unspoken threat was in her eyes. The funny grin was back on the black man's face in a split second. He started singing, the words rising above the general background noise.

The guard lifted the spear and propelled the blunt end into Crazy's Bones stomach harder than she needed to, to shut him up. Del turned her head and squeezed her eyes shut, wincing at the noise he made.

"Good fun!" Crazy Bones wheezed, loudly. "Again!"

 _Crazy, yes, I get it,_ she thought. She kept her eyes shut as another blow landed, and Crazy Bones threw up. Her own stomach began to force itself into her throat, the acid burning her on the way.

"Rudeness does you no good," a quiet voice said, the closeness startling her. None of the guards had spoken since they were surrounded, bound, and frogmarched into the village. She opened her eyes a crack, then fully.

A man in simple clothing had approached them. He was brown-skinned, with a flat nose and broad mouth. Black hair and brown eyes. If he wasn't quite so stocky he might look a lot like her, actually. Maybe like she looked like before coming to the Island.

"Tickets, please," Crazy Bones mumbled, before continuing his song in a weaker voice. He repeated the chorus from before, but got all the words jumbled. One of the guards shoved a wad of cloth into his mouth, gagging him.

The short man examined the three prisoners before stopping in front of Del. "Who is this?"

Her face screwed into a pinch, eyes watering from the effort of forcing down her vomit. He reached out and put his hands onto hers, staring at her curiously. "What name, yourself?"

Crazy Bones made a loud bark from under the gag, shouting words at her. She couldn't make out what he was saying―she kept her mouth shut, forcing herself to focus on a point in the distance over the Runner man's shoulder. Seemed like talking wasn't helpful―never had been, really―

The short man smiled, an oddly genuine smile that struck some deep chord inside her chest. It was... _weird._ She could handle Jake's shit-filled sly smiles, Matus' tricky twisting ones. Mara's mangled mouth, yearning to bite into her, had been nearly impossible to take seriously. But this smile?

It was so _honest._ So innocent and friendly, like a happy baby smile that you couldn't help but return. His eyes crinkled up at the corners, eyebrows lifted, making his sincerity seem deep and absorbing. _Everything will be alright,_ the smile promised. _All you need to do is trust me._

"Soul-of-Iron," she said, suddenly. Crazy Bones groaned, loudly enough to prove to he thought she'd made a huge mistake.

Whatever, she thought. It was tiring being blinded by her ignorance. Never knowing what to do, trying to take cues from people who might not have her best intentions in mind. _Very_ tiring, and frustrating.

Now was the time to learn for herself, even if it was the hard way.

"I am Willow Tree," the quiet man said. "Well met, Soul-of-Iron. Have you need for help?"

"I have a need not to be tied up," she replied, mumbling the comeback with what little snark she could manage.

"Do not fret, child," he said, gently cupping the back of her head with one hand and moving his thumb over her forehead in a cross motion. "All your worries shall soon be gone."

Del blinked in surprise. She hadn't been marked like that since... well, she hadn't been to church in _years,_ but... it was as weird as his smile.

Willow Tree moved to Kasimir then, lifting his head carefully. He put both of his thumbs onto his eyes and murmured something under his breath. After a moment, he nodded, backing away. He then gave an order to the guards, his back to the captives.

"The girl," he said, and two guards nodded before walking away briskly.

Crazy Bones began to rock back and forth vigorously, spitting out the gag and pulling at the ropes binding him. "No!" he yelled, angrily. _"No, not Soul―"_

Del blinked as a sudden ray of light beamed onto her face, startling her. The sun had just begun to crawl over the wall, glaringly bright. She narrowed her eyes to slits, barely noticing the birds that were flying about between her and it―

"Duval, be calmed," Willow Tree was saying. "She will _be_ of His flesh and _be_ one with us. You were given the same, do you not recall? Yet your eyes turned from Him..."

"And I'm Judas?!" Crazy Bones stood up from the kneel, awkwardly, as Del swiveled her head around. "You're the one _eating_ _blokes you call Jesus!"_

 _Oh_ , so that was it. Del spun her head the other way just before the vomit came, splattering the ground with purple. No wonder Jake didn't want to deal with the Runners―she managed a pathetic chuckle. Probably best she _hadn't_ asked.

Before the Runner leader could reply to Crazy Bones, an explosion cracked out over the village. The sheer loudness of it surprised everyone into utter stillness. A clamoring wail rose from the east side of the town, and a metallic banging noise echoed across the wall to the south. Smoke billowed into the sky, more loud explosions coming from each area the alarm was sounding.

The alarm began coming from the west side of the wall as well. Del breathed in too sharply and made herself cough, dust in her throat from the raised activity of Runners around her. People were running from the direction of the fields toward the biggest buildings, some dropping their tools as they ran, others mounting their triceratops and urging the beasts onward toward the emergencies.

Willow Tree reacted calmly, directing his guards to disperse. He didn't even bother to look back as he himself walked away toward the biggest building. He was leaving―

Kasimir turned his head abruptly, catching her attention. He bent his head down to his arms, holding something in his mouth and sawing at his bindings.

"You motherfu―" she started, but he hissed at her through his teeth and rolled his eyes around. Crazy Bones kept pulling at his arms, kicking the fence post as best he could.

As the noise around them grew even louder, Kasimir sliced through the rope around his arms and moved to the black man, lowering himself into a crouch before cutting him free.

Del made a complaint that neither man could have heard over the cacophony that washed through the camp. Crazy Bones was pulling the ropes from her arms as fast as Kasimir could cut them, soon enough.

"Thanks," she said, glad to have blood circulating through her fingers again. "How did you―"

Kasimir shushed her again, glancing about them quickly. He pointed in a direction and shouted for them to run.

The three ran north, the direction they had come from. Crazy Bones was well and far ahead of them, the rope in one hand and focused entirely on his destination. Going back to the longneck? The Runners hadn't bothered with it when they surrounded them, as far as she could tell.

They fled over the fields, heading for the trees. "What's going on?" Del yelled to Kasimir, who paused for a brief moment to pick through tools left behind by the Runners.

"Ambush," he breathed, looking back at the village. Smoke covered almost the entire sky now, clouds of dust slowly lifting from the ground. "Unnamed."

There couldn't be _that_ many of the Unnamed, could there? She could barely see anything more than a flash of scales through the dusky cover. Del bit her lip and watched the scene for a moment, only startled by Kasimir shoving a bag of something into her hands. _"Move,"_ he barked out, carrying his own sack.

She hesitated. In that one moment, a massive two-legged beast broke through the smoke and chaos, barreling down on them with a roar. Del screamed, whirled about and nearly flew over the nearest rock and into the trees.

 _A goddamn Tyrannosaurus rex!_

* * *

Cannon volleys battered the east wall, knocking holes through and letting the Shock stream like so many insects into the camp. The south had been organized by those who called themselves Woodsmen, once. Careful application of the explosives had been easy, when used in combination with their superior stealth.

Sammon himself led the westerly attack. Turrets were laid hidden in the trees, atop the horse-like creatures only rivaled in size by the long-tails. Other beasts were kept calm by their formerly Sailback riders, spit shining on rows of yellowed teeth. Even more short-armed beasts, thick-toed raptors, and crocodiles waited patiently for the order. It was inspiring how loyal all beasts upon the otherworld were, once tamed...

Even the men he'd cowed, in his search for answer, were so loyal. Many new faces from the Sailback graced the field, and not a one had uttered any protest.

Once they'd gained entry into the camp, however, he found his survey of the tribe had been somewhat inaccurate. It was good that the attack went as well as it had, but annoying that the people called Runners did what they were named for: They ran.

Sammon left the task of running down the few who hadn't fled into their buildings to the fleet-footed raptors. His men stationed themselves around the homes and systematically began to tear them apart with well-placed bolts, grenades being lobbed through openings as soon as was able.

The sky, filled with smoke from the cannons and explosives, lit into wonder with the arrival of so many carbuncles. They would deliver each person killed to the ground and then, into the waiting arms of his men.

Sammon watched all from the saddle of a beast so towering he must climb it with a ladder, its massive head swiveling as it tracked movement. As a beast of war, it was their best acquisition yet. He directed men as needed, his position atop the thing granting him better view.

The dust cleared from the majority of the camp. Sammon slaked his curiosity, moving the beast into the fields. Movement in the trees caught the beast's attention, then his―and he spurred it over the field of neatly-sown vegetables toward another Runner.

This land was not made for such a beast, trees grown over and vines hanging from their lofty branches, rocks strewn about like a careless creator had flung them down. Sammon kept his attention on the slight movement, unable to hear anything over his creature's thundering footsteps. Finally, when he'd broken through the trees into a wide clearing, he could see the Runner jumping over smaller rocks and fleeing toward two other figures and a long-necked beast struggling to stand from the ground.

Sammon reined in the beast. The three didn't seem to be running anymore, instead taking refuge under the long-neck. He cautiously moved his beast forward, slowly gaining ground on them.

"Come to the camp," he called, when he was reasonably close enough that they should hear, "and speak with me."

"Go to hell!" the female shouted back. Just under the stomach of the long-neck, Sammon could see the men motion for her to be quiet.

"Aren't we already here?" he replied.

An angry discussion took place under the beast, while he waited reply. A tall man stepped away from the others, walking out across the ground. Sammon studied him with some interest.

"Unnamed man," the man said, his voice even. "Speak with me, now."

Sammon dropped the reins of the beast, swinging his legs over the saddle and sliding from the saddle. "I am Sammon," he stated. "I would that you join me. I work to free every man and woman here from... Hell."

The yellow-haired smiled patiently, crossing his arms over his chest. "An admirable goal," he replied.

"It is unfortunate that, in times before, another has attempted the same," Sammon continued, without bothering to let the man speak more. "I am required to overpower and capture other tribes to fulfill my goal. I am sure you understand."

"Even had you asked nicely, the Runners would not agree," the man interjected. "I tried, once."

Sammon's face twitched slightly. "Then you are he who I seek?" he asked, calmly.

"He who is not named by others?" The man pursed his mouth and dropped his arms into a shrug. "I could be. I could be the rightful owner of the fortress you raided in the north. I could be the man who went into the volcano. Who fought off the Stalkers you sent after me, on the beach."

His heart jumped in his chest. This _was_ him. How _did_ Lady Fortune look upon him and his men, today! Sammon took a few steps in excitement, toward him. He did not move, but watched him with tired eyes.

"You want me to tell you what happened in the volcano," he said, quietly. His voice carried over the gentle wind to Sammon.

"Yes," Sammon answered, hope leaking through even though he did not wish to appear so trusting. "I do."

"I was afraid." His tired eyes grew hard as he spoke. "I never made it to the end. When those who went in, with me, died, I _fled."_ He lowered his eyes to the ground and breathed out forcefully. "And I hid, like the _coward_ I am."

Sammon's chest tightened. "Even so, you possess more knowledge of this world than any other―"

"No," the man said, turning away and starting back toward the long-neck. "I will not try again."

Sammon jerked forward, reaching out to the man, his face drawing angry. "Wait!" he snapped, "you must let me―"

He had not noticed the others climbing onto the long-neck, nor their tying a rope around the creature's neck. He did, however, notice the tail that suddenly and swiftly knocked him into the air, sending him skipping over many rocks and bushes.

The beast he rode roared in response, and rushed toward the long-neck with jaws agape.


	41. Mortal Coil

_"Hold on!"_

Del wrapped the rope around her arm as the brontosaurus turned itself away from the enemy and trampled toward the trees on the other side, directed carefully by Crazy Bones. With no time or way to make a saddle, he'd climbed up to its head and attached a makeshift rope headpiece.

The bronto was surprisingly calm about the T. rex that had been left unattended by the Unnamed man, until Kasimir started walking back. Crazy Bones pulled hard on the lead and whistled sharply, prompting an attack. She could feel the vibration in the bronto's chest as it bellowed in alarm, clipping the man who had run her down and sending him flying. Del leaned into the scaly skin and ducked her head down, the roar of the rex sounding so close her ears hurt.

Kasimir sped up his steps and grabbed hold of the rope as it swung out, pulling himself arm over arm up onto the shoulder of the bronto. Del grabbed at his hand, steadying herself by the neckband. He settled himself behind her on the massive shoulder of the bronto, wrapping an arm around her waist and the other twisting itself into the neckband.

A trumpet of pain and a shudder to the left jolted them―the rex snapped at the bronto's flank, scoring it with sharp teeth. The longneck swung its tail again, knocking the rex backward. A split second later the rex shook it off, running forward with steady steps.

Del held her breath for far too long, hoping the bronto could handle the attack. All they needed was time―time to get to the wall―and as much as Crazy Bones wasn't happy to leave a tamed longneck alone and vulnerable to attack, he _had_ come up with the idea. Get to the wall, swing over it with ropes, get the hell out of Runner territory.

If not for the ambush by the Runners, and the Unnamed, it would have been over by now.

The bronto didn't move as easily as the rex, but it did pack a hell of a punch. One of the swings forced the rex out into the field where it tripped over a jagged bunch of rocks, knocking it off its feet. Del let out a short cheer at the sight, but Kasimir's arm tightening around her waist told her they weren't out of danger yet.

While the rex was struggling to get up, the bronto turned and galloped north, guided carefully through the marshy land by Crazy Bones. Del saw crocodiles, lounging in the newly-risen sun, snap their jaws and retreat back under the water. The green tower came into view again, silhouetted by the sunrise―

Something grabbed her ankle. Del looked down and shrieked, kicking out. The man―the one who rode the rex―had caught hold of the rope still dangling from the side of the bronto and climbed it. He pulled a machete from his side as she struggled against his grip on her ankle, sticking it into his mouth as he attempted to get to them.

"Kasimir!" Del yelled, pushing down on the bronto with her free hand as she forced herself backward. Kasimir muttered something under his breath, releasing her waist.

She slid down with the strength of the next yank on her ankle, but managed one solid kick at the man. He lost his grip on the rope and almost fell, dangling in the air until his other hand grabbed hold of her pants leg. Del could feel the fabric straining against his weight―she shook her legs violently, trying to get him off of her.

Kasimir threw something down at the man―a metal hatchet, that he avoided. The blade missed his head but struck his elbow, bouncing off of his armor and into the brush as the bronto moved.

 _"Let go!"_ Del shrieked. The lead was digging into her arm now, her fingers turning purple from lack of blood when she glanced up. Kasimir reached down with one hand and grabbed her free arm, trying to pull her upward.

The rex burst through the trees behind them, enormous feet pounding the ground as it closed the distance to the bronto. Del heard a distant swear from Crazy Bones, and the bronto swiveled to the right―

Her legs swung out with the movement, the man landing his feet on the bronto once more. He started to climb up her legs, making his way to her waist, wrapping his arm around her lower back and digging his fingers into her. She gritted her teeth so that she wouldn't bite her cheek and kicked upward, as hard as she could.

The rex slammed into them before she could connect, sending a tremor through the bronto. Del could feel the man's hand on her back, tearing through the thin fabric as he held onto her. She redoubled her effort, tasting blood in her mouth as her teeth clamped down again.

Even if her blows seemed to land, they made no difference. "We need not fight!" He muffled through his teeth, his face as resolute as his voice. "Stop your beast and I shall call mine to heel!"

There was a tense moment before a reply came from above her. "Call yours off, first!" Kasimir said, his nails digging into Del's arm.

The man removed a hand and pulled the machete from his mouth, giving a whistle that pierced through her head. There was nothing to show he'd done as he was asked, at first. Del wondered why Kasimir had even bothered to agree to the terms―why he would even bother to ask―

The bronto's feet stomped the ground, moving frantically, before coming to an abrupt stop in the middle of the swamps. The rex stood across from them, watching them with interest but staying rooted to the shore.

The man maneuvered himself up, coming face to face with Del, and pushed the machete against her throat. "I do not wish to fight," he said, looking directly at her.

"Let go," she sputtered, through her teeth. "Right _now!"_

He didn't make any expression, or remove his hand. Instead he looked up to Kasimir, exposing his throat to her. She―she'd seen him before. This was the man who had been attacked by Mara, when she went to find Kasimir on the beach. Even then he'd been so close to finding them―and at Riverbend, and now―

Del was surprised that they hadn't met him until now. She could see the stubble on his chin, feel the body heat coming through his armor, he was that flush against her. Del fought the urge to swallow the thickness in her throat as the blade bounced precariously against her skin. If she could just knock him off-balance...

"You have forced me into this," the man said. "I mean no harm to the girl but should you not let me speak, this will not end well for her."

"Speak, then," Kasimir replied. Del chanced a glance upward, seeing the unsmiling look on his face. He took his hand from the neckband of the bronto, adjusting his position on the bronto's shoulder slightly. His hand was firm on her forearm, nails digging into her skin.

"Even should a man fall, he rises once more. So much more so, in this world. Before you dealt with the extent of many tribes, all who fought among themselves more than aiding. I have solved this."

"You think conquering the people will make it easier to fight the tower beasts?" Kasimir's eyes, cold as ice, narrowed on his. Del had seen that look before. When Jake admitted he'd told her the truth―Kasimir wanted to hurt the man, badly.

"No." The man bumped his chin against Del's. She fought the urge to recoil, the blade shifting on her skin. "I know it will. Every man and woman who comes under my command is made sure by his fellows. _None_ have died, since their induction to the Unnamed."

"You haven't caught Jake Ashley yet, then," Kasimir muttered. Del snorted, unintentionally. "You have my journals, Sammon. You know everything I know. I told you the ending."

Sammon nodded, slowly. "Yet you still know more," he said, almost sounding awed. "The crafts in your fortress are useful, yet we cannot use them―"

"And you never will," Kasimir answered, testily. "Not in _any_ lifetime you spend on the Island."

Sammon smiled, the curl of his mouth almost devilish. "And so, I know that you are not telling all you could."

 _Shit._ Del tilted her eyes down at the man's throat, watching his Adam's apple moving. Kasimir's "ending" story might be true or might not, but either way Sammon wasn't buying it. He wanted―the Tek, what Kasimir mentioned before. The armor that looked so space-age it could probably go to space for real.

She tugged on her arm, hoping Kasimir would release her. It was pointless for him to stop her from falling. Her other arm was going numb, anyway. Eventually she'd let go out of sheer numbness and fall to the ground, and the machete would sever her jugular. Maybe she could take the asshole out on her way down.

He took the hint and she dropped her hand to her side. "Sammon," she said, in a low voice. "That stuff you want? I know how you can get it. Let me go―and we'll talk."

A growl from above her. Kasimir didn't want her to tell, but―wasn't that the point? She never knew what to say, anyway. Del could taste iron when she swallowed. "Listen―" she started, squirming against his body―she was sure she'd have her throat cut, but the machete never moved. His grip was sure, moving as needed to keep the blade at a careful angle.

A rope fell down, looping over Sammon's head and neck. A blur fell from the shoulder of the bronto, pulling the rope toward the ground. Sammon jerked away from her, dropping the machete and grabbing at her free arm with both hands.

Del screamed when the sudden force ripped her arm from its socket, her hold on the rope gone as her muscles wobbled and gave. She fell from the side of the bronto, landing in a heap at its foot on top of Sammon and Kasimir―

* * *

He pulled the man's body across the water, leaving it on the far shore and away from his sharp-tooth. The noose around his head had snapped his neck during the fall, as he'd intended. Kasimir tightened the slipknot, hooking the other end around a tree. His knees protested, damaged from the fall.

But that was what happened when one jumped from the side of a longneck, he told himself. One dislocated arm and a few pulled muscles were nothing to be concerned about.

The girl was crying openly, her face a mess of snot and tears. He hadn't expected Sammon to pull her down with them. Kasimir reset her arm, forcing the joint into place. She quit her crying after a few moments, wiping her face repeatedly until her sleeve was soaked through. "What now?" came her uncertain whimper.

Kasimir pulled Sammon's armor from the pile of things he'd retrieved and dumped the lot of it on the ground in front of her. "Get dressed," he said, bluntly. "We're going to the wall."

She must have had more on her mind than he, as she began to undress without caring who saw. Duval grinned lewdly, eyes glued to the girl's exposed back. Kasimir grabbed him under the armpit and hauled him away, not stopping until they were out of sight of the girl. He eyed the sharp-tooth across the swamp. It hadn't made a move since Sammon ordered it down, and probably wouldn't unless one of the Unnamed found them.

"Are we still on plan?" he asked, hesitating.

"Aye." Duval cackled, breathily. "Thinking the same as I, are you? What do we do when over the wall? We were going to Eagle Gate, but will the Unnamed greet us there?"

Kasimir nodded. "You know was well as I..." he let the words trail off. Danger, in the north. He felt respect for the Unnamed tribe, their perseverance in taming beasts and surviving the cruelness of the land earning them that much. But even though they had managed it, they were more in number than three barely armed people.

"Fair point," Duval said, rubbing his chin. He shook his head. "What else is there to do? Certainly won't be going back the way we came."

"No," Kasimir agreed. He paused for thought, crossing his arms. "...I didn't see Matus or Viktor in the attack. And Jake is missing."

Duval snorted. "Why worry? They'll show their faces soon enough." He glanced back toward the girl. "Worry about that one, if you're wont. Hasn't come down the light yet, has she?"

Kasimir shook his head. That was something to worry about. too. When she did come down the light, she'd be back on the beach―he'd mentioned that while at the tower―and far too far away for him to help her. It was part of the reason he'd given her the better armor. She couldn't wear Tek. He'd retrieve his before they left. That left Duval without anything.

"I see where your head is," the black man said. "Worried I'll shuffle off this mortal coil, come back here?"

Kasimir nodded, absently staring at the trees across the swamp. A few long-legged dinosaurs were wandering around, occasionally chased by the crocodiles that were sunning themselves. "Too much trouble," he muttered, to himself.

"That's what makes me lovable," Duval laughed. "Want me to stay with Betty? She's a fine beast." He looked up at the longneck, smiling fondly.

It didn't surprise Kasimir that the man had named her, already. He lowered his arms to his hips, nodding. "Best bet."

The girl was pulling on finely woven gloves when they returned to her side, wiggling fingers through the cloth. "Let's get the hell out of here," she mumbled, blinking furiously. " 'Fore the Unnamed find out we killed their leader."

Kasimir couldn't agree more.


	42. Old Debts

When the sun rose that day, they were away from Home. Viktor remembered the pain of fire, his flesh flaking away under the heat, and the fear that had overtaken him. The man had suffered for his fear, being trampled under Viktor's unrelenting claws. Viktor did not feel ashamed for that. He did not know what shame was.

But he _did_ know loyalty. The man who had raised him from a hatchling was lying on the sand, having washed ashore from the brackish water of the swamps. Viktor stayed beside the man, guarding him. There was danger here, but no more than he had fielded before. And he was patient.

When the man did not immediately rise from the shore, he breathed hotly onto him. Smelled him, to ensure that he was indeed alive. He knew the stink of decay―and no such stink was coming from the man. Viktor lowered himself onto the shore, on his belly, resting the very tip of his snout onto the man's stomach. His tail curled to the side, framing the man.

He was a predator, bred to kill, but not ungentle. Viktor blinked wearily at the world around him, waiting for the man to stand. As he would, as he always had.

Viktor slept, eventually. Fitfully. He was tired, his jaws sore from snapping at each enemy who had come after them, his sail listing the to side from injury. He jerked awake at every sound, and this Place was not a quiet place. He was exhausted.

The chirrup woke him from a dead sleep.

* * *

Sheba blinked at the big Thing, tilting her head as she watched it stagger into a stand above her. She looked down at the man it guarded. It cared for its master, watching out for him. Even though it was bloodied and slow, it remained on guard.

The big dinosaur turned its head, opening its mouth just enough to demonstrate a set of yellowed teeth. Sheba's children, the two who'd survived the massacre at the pen, squawked in alarm and nearly fell over themselves trying to hide in the nearby rocks and driftwood.

Sheba put her head down, bobbing her body rhythmically. She ducked low, close to the sand, waiting for the big dino to strike. Nothing came of it, the big dino was too tired to bother with such a tiny Thing. She was no threat, she meant no harm.

Sheba remembered them both. Its master had not been nice to her. But... Sheba missed _her_ master, and the man on the sand was known to him. She jerked her head upward, staring the big dino in the eye. She gave a simple peep of understanding.

It was so tired it could no longer keep its head apart from the ground. With a grumble, it returned to the sand, keeping its chin on the man. Sheba moved closer, rubbing her side along the jawline of the beast, pausing to give it a long unblinking stare. The big Thing snorted―scaring the children, again―and closed its eyes.

Sheba trailed her side along its jaw back toward the man and curled herself into a ball near the man's head. After a long moment, the children joined her.

* * *

A beast waited along the shore where the carbuncle landed, tended carefully by a guardian tasked to do so. Sammon retrieved basic equipment and clenched his teeth as he made his way south. He was not alone; the battle with the Runners had claimed a few of his men. Others, formerly of the newer tribes joined them along the river.

They arrived in Riverbend, first, regrouping before Sammon led the men through the hole in the Runner's wall. The sight was reassuring, crumbling stones and cracked wood dropping to the ground as they passed. Even moreso, the milling crowd that greeted him was tenfold stronger and fell into ranks with ease.

His return from death, a second time, was announced with some fanfare. Sammon brushed aside the celebration, ashamed that he had not anticipated the maneuver that led him to visit the dark unknown once more. In falling he had felt a prickling across his skin, an uncomfortable sensation that had reached into his every part and tattooed onto him worry.

When he'd awakened, his hand had gone to his throat. The doubled pain of bite and rope wore on his soul. It was troubling, the path he had made; that it would lead him to his end twice, in the same manner. He wondered if it was an omen, if Lady Fortune had marked him in retribution for failing Her in Her _only_ given opportunity.

Why would the man not agree to aid him in his cause? He had once done the very same, but now chose not to. Why would he not submit to his questions, at least? What could frighten such an indomitable figure, the once true leader of this Island, into confrontation yet keep him silent as well?

...And was his story of fleeing the volcano true? Sammon knew it must not be. The journals had told him that much. All that he had read was refreshed in his mind, the planning, the years of battles, the assaults on the towers. No man went through such effort, such horror and grief, only to quit the field in the end.

Sammon ran a hand along the newest, acquired from the devil woman in exchange for weapons of power. Opening it to a random page, he read of the years of quiet. Not one mention of what had come before graced these pages, but the meticulous record-keeping was still of interest.

His eyes went over detailed illustrations of animals and plants. The arrival of men and women on the beach, the rough sketches of their faces―some new, some he recognized. Those he knew had been taken by his men and were now part of his army. Not one had stayed with the man on his beach for longer than a week.

The dark-haired female, who had run from his beast through the fields, was mentioned prominently at the end of the journal yet not drawn. She'd given him more than the man ever had, agreeing to tell him of the man's crafts. Her words had angered the man, asking Sammon to speak with her.

Sammon recalled the words the man had spoken to him, before he'd been killed. He sieved them through his mind patiently, seeking another opportunity. Shutting the fire-caught book and holding it reverently, he focused himself and nodded.

"Bring Jake Ashley to me," he told his men.

* * *

Her beast climbed down from the tree with a practiced grace, approaching the creatures piled upon each other on the beach. To make safe, she lit from the beast some meters away and proceeded on foot.

A familiar chirruping alarm caught her ears before she saw them, three compys that seemed impossibly loud for such small beings. A sharp whistle brought them to heel, their tiny bodies milling about her feet like fish in a pond. Cooing smoothly she lowered herself to pet the yellow compy, fingers playing over the band of brown feathers that stuck out from its head. The creature was obviously relieved at seeing her. She recognized Jake's hand in the creature; he'd bred them for intelligence and though she did not know its name, this one knew her.

She glanced over the rest of the pile, eyes sharp. A man laid comatose below a Spinosaur that had seen major battle. She recognized him, the youthful face that hardly seemed to age. Knew who he was, an enemy, a foe that had bested many of her fellows. But that didn't matter, now. She surveyed the damage to his metal armor; it had cracked about him, some pieces impaling his skin in critical places. She tutted, and called her beast to her.

The spino growled at them, but soft words spoken and a treat of kibble calmed it well enough. She breathed out, then hefted the man over her beast's back. To find what should have been a longtime enemy in such a way...

Peacetime was over. The time had come to honor old debts, to call in every favor owed. How she would go about that she hadn't yet planned, but it would come to her.

Just as _he_ would come to her. He had said he would. Eventually.

Célise shook her head in disapproval, spiriting Matus away to safer ground.

* * *

Jake Ashley stood in his cage, repeatedly running the handcuffs along the wooden bars and making an extremely irritating noise. He knew it was irritating because the guard had poked at him several times with his pike, warning him to behave. Eventually the man would snap and do something nasty to him, or wise up and cuff his hands on the outside of the bars. Either way, he'd have his chance.

He was bored. After seeing Louis and Kim dolled up like the rest of the palookas, and most of the bohunk's people too, he wasn't surprised. Or angry, seeing as that was how the asshole did his business. Getting conquered was just part and parcel for the Island.

'Least Heart-of-Iron had the chutzpah to ask _nicely._ Jake wondered where the two were gone off to. With that armor of his, Jake figured he was off to the volcano again. Half thought he'd blow down the bunch of them up there, get hisself sorted out, and maybe _lock his goddamn door_ this time.

Jake snorted, then produced one of the finest wads of snot he'd ever managed. He waited until the guard came by again, fighting a smirk.

When the victim dragged him in front of some asshole sitting cross-legged on a platform, sporting a freshly bloodied nose, Jake let the smirk show. He rattled his cuffs as he waved an enthusiatic hello to the new face.

"...Interesting," the asshole said. He stared contemplatively at Jake.

"Somethin' I can help ya with?" he asked, riding the high.

"I am called Sammon," he replied, calmly. "I understand that you are... intimate with the man I've been seeking for quite some time."

Jake snorted, explosively. The guard he'd spat on made a menacing gesture at him, pushing the pike into his side threateningly. Jake gave him a lop-sided grin, turning away from Sammon just long enough to mull over the idea in his head.

Nah, he shouldn't spit on this guy. Something was up, him asking about Heart-of-Iron. Guy already knew Woodsmen were sneaky shit, seemed to think that was a useful trait to exploit. Prolly, he expected Jake to double-cross him already and had some backup plan might get Jake in serious shit.

Jake squared himself up and turned back. "Iffen ya mean Heart-of-Iron, nah. Grumpy ole git trusts me 'bout as much as I trust a carno not ta eat me liver first."

Sammon leaned forward, steepling his fingers together under his neatly trimmed beard. "And the woman he travels with?"

Jake sniffed. "Dumb as the day is long," he answered. Far as he could tell, that was the truth. Sammon wanted for the truth, too. Iffen he'd answered any different, whatever the man wanted from him would be off the table for sure.

Sammon nodded to himself, dropping his eyes to the handcuffs. He made a wave with his hand, and they were removed. "I've need for a man such as yourself," he murmured.

"Yeah? How so?" Jake eyed him up, aiming to look suspicious. "I ain't the type ta get hotsy-totsy with the git."

The asshole ignored his fool-headed come-back, just what he'd aimed for. "I had the fortune to meet this Heart-of-Iron," he said, coolly. "The man is difficult to win over, I will admit. If you were inclined to aid me in doing so, I will provide you with what you want."

"Yea, what's that?" Jake shot back, too quickly, too eagerly. It almost felt too easy, luring him in like this. Made Jake feel better 'bout getting played so much by the two Iron Marchers. "What ya got for me?"

"Guns, food, protection..." Sammon laid his hands out in an open position. "Whatever you desire."

"Sounds swell," Jake said, going back to the suspicious tone. "Mebbe a lil _too_ swell. What ya gettin' outta this?"

"Freedom from the Island, of course." Sammon smiled, pleasantly.

"An' whatcha want me ta do? Sweet-talk the ole git?" Jake snorted again, looking right at the guard. His grin came back, even through the pain of the pike being ground into one of his kidneys. "Think we done proved that's nothin' but a line he ain't bitin'."

Sammon looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. "I agree. But the woman..."

There it was, the outlet he'd been waiting for. Jake sneered at the idea. That alone was enough to make Sammon smile in relief, confirming that Jake was on the right path. "Might could," he said, slowly rubbing his chin. "She has been real friendly to me lately."

"Then you understand what I want?" The brown man stared at him, dark eyes boring into his with a gleam that Jake didn't know that he liked.

"Yea, I ken." He shifted his weight, wishing he had pockets to shove his hands into. "Capture Soul-of-Iron, bring her to ya. I get it."

Sammon leaned backward, nodding. "Then it is agreed. There are others who will travel at your side. Seek them."

Made sense. Jake turned away from the man, brushing past the man he'd spat on earlier. One of the Unnamed, formerly a Woodsman, handed him a knife and a waterskin. None of the people he passed in the camp spoke to him, not even Kim. Each one watched him with hooded eyes under leather helmets.

At the edge of the camp, a young man and a dark-skinned woman waited, arms crossed and faces drawn. Neither one looked pleased to be there. Jake suppressed the groan he wanted to make, walking past the Stalkers and north into the trees.

 _It could be worse_ , he told himself.

But, really, he knew it _couldn't_.


	43. The Bright Falcon

The armor that Sammon had been wearing was almost too bulky and hot to move in. Del could feel warm trickles of sweat going down her back, moistening the thick cloth and making it stick to her uncomfortably. Kasimir's armor was silent but for an occasion soft whisper as the suit filtered air through the vents.

He moved just as quietly through the brush and trees, going slowly enough that Del could pace herself and attempt at sneaking. Jake had mentioned that she was too loud, before, and she was applying herself as best she could to learn how to walk slowly.

She was so focused on walking one foot in front of the other, stalking through the scattered rocks, that she barely noticed when Kasimir stopped and placed his hand on a mangrove tree directly in front of her. The motion she made to stop herself from running into him caused her to splash loudly into the swamp water. She bit back a swear as a giant toad gave a startled croak and hopped off into the swamp with an even louder splash.

Kasimir turned his head to the side, the facing disappearing with that futuristic wash, raising an eyebrow at her. A frown played at the corner of his mouth.

Del shrugged feebly, shaking her head at him. She kept her foot in the water, refusing to move it for fear of making any more noise. Slowly, water seeped through the material, soaking her ankle.

Kasimir turned back, surveying the land without talking. After a few long minutes, he moved off and further into the swamp. Del gingerly pulled her foot from the water and followed.

Moving as carefully as they were, they easily evaded short-armed carnos and other creatures with equally sharp teeth, staying well away from the large predators. More than one Spinosaurus roamed the river further down from where they crossed over, chasing fish aggressively through the water.

The Island was spooky, north of the river. The trees were taller than she could have even imagined, massive redwoods rising through the mist like monsters. Even after the sun had risen―her implant, when checked, told her it was almost eleven in the morning―light could barely pierce through the canopy.

Compared to the southern isles, this place was suffocating. Del caught shadows in the corner of her eyes, heard thundering footsteps that left her trembling and remembering the rex. The whole of it made the hair on the back of her neck jump off and hide somewhere near her feet.

 _Trying_ to be quiet was no longer an option. _Do or do not_ , she told herself, nervously.

Kasimir diverted from the trees and made his way down a cliff, sliding down into another swampy spot. Del hesitated, looking dubiously at the incline.

A terrifying screech came from behind her. _Raptor!_ She couldn't breathe―she froze as it knocked her down the cliff and face-first into the water―it held her down, slashing at her armor with rapid strikes. Kasimir made an alarmed noise, then the shotgun pumped once―and she could almost hear the empty click of the trigger, through the sloshing water and ear-piercing shrieks of the raptor.

 _Fuck!_ She pushed herself up, gasping for air, only to be slammed back down. Her face hit something soft, and she could taste acrid mud being forced into her nose and down her throat. Kasimir was hitting the raptor, rocking her back and forth with each strike. Del started to see stars, feeling the talons beginning to rip through her armor and into her skin―

Just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over with. The pressure gone, Del lurched up out of the water, coughing and snorting. Kasimir grabbed her under the arm and hauled her up, staring at their rescuer. It was a time before she could compose herself long enough to see who that was.

A thin, older woman with delicate hands sat atop some sort of horse-sized dog-tiger creature. Short, curly, platinum hair framed her face, which was lined with wrinkles that gave her an air of authority. The look in her eyes was one of neutrality and patience. Del wiped a stream of snot and mud from her nose, feeling somewhat intimidated but also feeling... safe.

That didn't help her much, because she'd had the same feeling from Willow Tree and he'd wanted to _eat_ her. She glanced at Kasimir, seeing him swallow hard. He looked like he felt the same, a perturbed expression spreading across his face.

"Célise," he finally strangled out, sounding for all the world like a child who'd been rebuked by his mother.

"The time has come," the woman said, speaking in a calm and lilting voice, "for your silence to end, Kasimir."

"Yes," he agreed, his voice slowly gaining confidence again. "But it may be too late."

"It is never too late," she intoned, and smiled patiently. "Come along. We have much to discuss."

* * *

The Woodsman leader's camp was tiny, set into the side of a mountain that overlooked a bend of the northern river. Kasimir stood atop a rock that jutted out dramatically, arms crossed and eyes fixed on the scenery across the river. The girl was gathering berries, dropping each load into a cooking pot as Célise directed her.

The Sailback leader lay atop a sleeping bag, his skin pale and sweating. Rough fiber had been packed into his wounds, covered with a sticky green substance Kasimir knew to be a narcotic. Célise was keeping him unconscious for some reason or another, presumably because she felt him a threat.

Jake's compy, the golden-scaled thing that went everywhere with him, had climbed Kasimir's shoulder and was trilling peacefully into his ear. Jake was nowhere in sight, and Célise had not seen him for several months.

"When the Unnamed attacked our home," she said, "there was not much time to flee. I stood with my fellows against the tide, though we were inevitably captured."

"How are you here, then?" the girl asked her.

"There are secrets even I will keep," Célise said, mysteriously. Then she laughed, and Kasimir heard the scraping of a utensil against the cooking pot. "I feigned illness, and once quarantined I escaped my bonds. The Unnamed may be strong of number and in tactics, but their leader is a young fool."

Kasimir turned to the side, dropping his arms as he moved away from the edge. "He wants Tek," he said, approaching Célise.

The old woman nodded, not looking up. "As do we all, but his is a mission borne out of love for his people rather than a desire for power. For that reason, he will fail." She doled out a portion of the stew into a crudely-carved bowl, handing it to Kasimir.

"What do you mean?" the girl asked, before blowing on her own stew. She settled herself on the ground, crossing her legs underneath herself.

"Idealism," Célise replied, "is admirable, but usually involves unrealistic goals. With the knowledge that Sammon possesses he may be able to pursue the artifacts, gather the tributes. But even with these, he does not know what to truly expect." She glanced at Kasimir.

He looked down at the stew, swallowing hard. The truth, the ending story, the one he hadn't told to anyone. His lie to Sammon, before they escaped Runner territory, hadn't assuaged the man's curiosity.

"He wants to know what's in the volcano." The girl watched Kasimir for a moment.

"I do not doubt," Célise replied, dryly. "It would be to his advantage to know."

Kasimir downed the stew quickly, dropping the bowl to the side of the cooking pot. He returned to the edge of the rock, staring out at the volcano. It was perfectly visible from this distance, the flat top of the mouth stark against the bright sky.

"Oh, shit," the girl said, through a mouthful of food. "I―" she lowered her bowl with a clatter against the rocks. "I told him―"

"You implied that you know what is in the volcano," Kasimir said, his voice irate.

"And she shall, if you would kindly tell us," Célise commanded him.

The girl coughed under her breath as he turned around. He stared at the old woman, tiredly. "It is no more than a cave, like all the others. Lava, stone, crawling creatures, flying beasts. At the end, a doorway."

"Shit," the girl said, picking up her bowl again.

Célise nodded, patiently. She folded her hands in her lap. "And this would lead one where?"

Kasimir jabbed a hand upward, into the sky. "A control center. Watching over all the Arks. The cold of space."

The girl sputtered and spat out stew. "I fucking _knew_ it!" she said, dropping the bowl and wiping at her shirt.

"And who operates this control center?" Célise asked. Her eyes glittered with interest, though she was still of body.

Kasimir gritted his teeth for a moment. The memory was not easy to give. "An Overseer," he replied, bitterly. "...A machine, independent of thought, recreating each tree, every stone, every beast and every man or woman who walks this damned Island."

The girl paused, hand in mid-swipe, staring off into the air as if lost in thought. Célise sighed, slowly moving to pick up her spoon and stir the cooking pot. "Then it is he who marked us with the implants, and he who watches our progress."

"Yes," Kasimir replied. The compy jumped from his shoulder, trotting to the girl's side and sniffing at the food that had spilled to the ground. "And he who reacted violently to my arrival."

The old woman moved to the side of Matus, removing the narcotic-laced fibers from his body. The wounds were no longer visible on his skin. She took another bowl, filled with an orange paste, and slowly fed him. "Bring me the water, please, dear," she told the girl.

"Yeah, no problem." A moment later she handed over the requested item. She watched Célise working for a moment, then turned to Kasimir. "What, exactly, is an Ark?" the girl asked, looking up at him.

He took a deep breath, then gestured about them. "The Island."

"And there's more than one?" Kasimir nodded. "How many?"

He remembered the view from the windows of the control room. The darkness, the stars twinkling faintly in the distance. The looming planet below him, its surface scored and wasted. Rising around him, the other lands and one cracked open as if an enormous eggshell. He'd fallen to his knees at the sight, his heart sinking in his chest, and cried.

There was no way out. Nowhere to go back to.

"I don't remember," he told the girl, turning away. Stared at the volcano, remembering the Snow Children who had gone with him into the hellish deep.

He'd never apologized to anyone. Never told the men and women of the north that their kindred died fighting, that Henrik had slain the Giga in the well of the door. That Alma had thrown herself at the multitudes of scorpions, to protect him from their stings, and fell unconsciously from the path into the lava. That any one of them had proved their worth over and over until their ineluctable deaths.

Kasimir wiped at his face, not surprised to find tears. It wasn't the first, and nor would it be the last, time that he would shed tears for those who had fallen. He'd never recorded the last deaths in writing. They deserved to be grieved for, and properly.

"Kasimir," the girl said, coming up beside him. "You okay?"

He sighed through his nose. "I am as I will always be."

"A _coward,"_ came a croaking voice from behind them.

"Shut the fuck up, Matus," the girl hissed.

"Where is Viktor?" the Sailback asked, pushing himself into a sit.

Célise held a hand to his forehead, briefly. "I left him by the river. He needed rest, much as you."

Matus blinked roughly, wiping his face. "Soul-of-Iron," he said, nodding to her with a weary look. "Were it not for your help, I would be in the clutches of the betrayer. Thank you."

The girl did a double-take, looking confused. "Okay?" she said, turning to face the man.

Kasimir breathed out another sigh.

"Among us all, who is more capable of survival?" Célise added. "Do not mock your ability, Matus."

"True, Mademoiselle." Matus groaned, moving into a stand. "Though I would be in far worse shape, had we not had the traps that Soul-of-Iron crafted for us."

"What _ever_ ," the girl said, under her breath. Perhaps she regretted the decision to make the truce with Matus, as much as Kasimir had implied she should.

There was quiet in the camp for a time. Matus ate, and the girl stood by Kasimir as he stared out over the river and the land before them. "Is that the volcano?" she asked, pointing.

"Yes," he answered.

"Are we heading there?"

"No," Célise said, raising her voice. "We are to travel to Eagle Gate. We will roust the enemy from the fortress, and we will craft weapons and armor."

"Judas' men await us there, do they not?" Matus narrowed his eyes on the old woman. "When they have been removed, what waits us in return?"

"Nothing but war," Kasimir put in. "Sammon will know, when his men are gone from the fortress."

The girl groaned, mildly. "So we get there and wait for him to come attack us?"

"That is certainly an expected outcome," Célise said. "Though..." She smiled faintly, her gaze off in the distance.

"I don't know if you noticed, but we're not exactly prepared for this," the girl argued. "Not one of us has a weapon worth a damn, not to mention only two of us have good armor. The shotgun hasn't got bullets, and Kasimir's out of whatever the hell it is he needs for his rifle―"

"We do not need weapons if we have our beasts," Matus interrupted. He placed his arms above his head, stretching and making himself look even more impossibly tall.

"Says the guy with a fucking _spinosaur,"_ the girl snapped. "All I ever had was a stupid little dilo and Sammon's men already killed him. And what is Sheba gonna be able to do? She's basically a weaponized _chicken."_

Sheba turned her head up at the tone of the girl's voice and stalked off slowly, as if offended. Matus laughed, grinning from ear to ear. "Quite," he said. "A _spirited_ chicken, at that."

Célise coughed, gathering their attention. "Kasimir," she said quietly. "When all was over, and you fled the camp, you left behind that which might aid us greatly."

That wasn't news. He shrugged one shoulder and did his best to look chastised.

"Fortunately for you, I am not a uncaring woman," Célise continued. "I know now the torment in your heart, and for that I am glad that I minded Fenist."

Kasimir's head jerked up. He had not forgotten―but the creature should have been dead, lost to time?

"What's Fenist?" the girl asked.

Célise whistled.

And a great shadow overtook the camp, drowning out the sun.


	44. Almost Too Easy

"I ain't taking orders from a fucking sneak-ass _bastard_ like you!"

Lora ignored them as she watched the surrounding area for movement. Jake finished wiping the blood from his nose, still painful and swollen. He gave Twitch a shrug and a grin. "Don't wanna, that's fine," he said, tossing the rag to the side. "Ya ain't got two sticks ta rub together in that flea-brained skull of yers, anyhow."

Twitch started at the man, not for the first time that afternoon nor for the first time in the last hour. The scuffle lasted about ten seconds before Jake put the Stalker into the dirt with a arm pulled up behind him and his boot on his back.

"Iffen ya listened, ya'd know that they went northwest to parlay with the Snow Kids," Jake said, calmly. "An' that's where I'm headin'. Enough iffen ya don't wanna believe me. Jus' follow."

"Ain't followin' ya, _neither!"_ Twitch said, his accent showing under the stress of being crushed into the ground.

Jake knew the kid, he'd met him ages ago when he came down the light. Offered him up to Matus as a promising recruit, only to have the little shit bug out on them the minute he'd realized he'd have to take orders from him. Never had learned his lesson.

Lora, the leader of the Stalkers, she was the brains. Hadn't always had to put up with Twitch, but wasn't too picky when it came down to getting the job done. Said she trusted Twitch to do the job. Jake didn't trust either one of them not to chiv him, again. Knowing how they got jobs done...

That shit at the shore―he'd learned about the ambush on the Runners―hell, anyone strong enough to conquer the Runners was impressive enough to make him think about joining up. But after meeting Sammon, all his palookas, seeing their setup, he knew why they got on so well.

Same reason Twitch never did like Matus. The camp was full of a hell of a lot of discipline, hop-to's and yes sir's.

Out here with the Stalkers, he had an easier go of escaping. Weren't nothing he could do but bide his time and wait 'til an opportunity presented itself. Shouldn't take too long, he expected. Why he'd lied 'bout where they was heading, even.

"So, they're northwest, like I says." Jake twisted Twitch's arm harder.

"We'll head north," Lora said, lowering her rifle. She tossed it to Jake, forcing him to drop the little shit's arm and release him. "It makes sense. If he's looking for safety, he'd surely seek it in past allies."

"Why the fuck would that asshole even _go_ north?!" Twitch pried himself from the ground as Jake looked over the sniper rifle. "Fuckin' place is a deathtrap on toppa the Unnamed all over it!"

"Got somethin' to do up there, I 'spect," Jake replied. "Last I saw 'im, he'd got his fancy suit back. Shit ya never saw the likes of, shit he never used at the volcano. Mebbe he's plannin' on going up the blue tower, gettin' more lead."

"If that's true, we may need more firepower," the Stalker woman said.

"Nah." Jake slung the rifle over his back. "He'll be runnin' with the girl, not fightin' back. Even with all the frills."

"What's so special about her?" Lora grabbed at Twitch's arm, stopping him from launching himself at Jake again.

"Don't know, rightly." Jake made a stupid face at Twitch, grinning as the kid got more angry. "Mebbe it's 'cause she's the first Iron Marcher in forever. Ain't been but him for years."

Lora nodded, digging her fingers into Twitch's arm. "Alright. Let's get going. We got a lot of ground to cover."

"Imma kill that muthafuckin' bitch," Twitch grumbled, as they began the trek northwest.

* * *

The sound of flapping wings overpowered everything else in the area, as an enormous beast landed atop the rocks. A deep-throated rumble coming from the beast made Del's ears hurt, the massive head of the thing swiveling as it cried out and greeted them.

It looked like the pteranodons, in a way, only much much larger. The crest above the beady eyes was more blunted, but the beak was longer and wider. Its wings were membranes of darkest black, the arms outlined with a deep blue and green mottling. Atop its back was a metal platform and saddle, easily large enough to carry a small car, with an odd-looking contraption atop it.

 _"Fenist,"_ Kasimir said, reaching out his arms to embrace the beast around the neck. Del blinked in surprise.

"That is Fenist," Célise murmured, from behind her. "With whom we will take to the skies, and with whom we will take the fortress."

Matus clapped his hands together once. "I had forgotten the beast!" he said, sounding impressed. "I must admit, I am ashamed of myself."

"What the hell is it?" Del asked. She'd never seen a pteranodon that looked like that.

"I believe the proper name is _Quetzalcoatlus_?" Célise smiled fondly as Kasimir rubbed his forehead into the beast's collarbone. "There was once a zoologist who roamed with us, along the valleys and dells. She remarked on the beast at length."

Kasimir turned back to them. "Does the catapult still work?" he asked Célise.

"I confess I do not know. Fenist has been in hiding from even my own people, since your exile. Any other beast you had..." she tilted her head, sadly. "Well, of course, they were destroyed."

"How did you keep that thing hidden?" Del, her mouth dropping open in shock.

"I _am_ a Woodsman," Célise replied, spreading her hands out wide. She chuckled at the impressed look on Del's face.

"Such is the advantage they have," Matus chimed in. "Sailbacks, not so much. Power, or stealth. It is an easy choice for some."

Kasimir had climbed onto the platform and dropped a rock into the catapult. He settled himself before aiming the weapon away from the wings of Fenist, and launched the boulder. Del heard a far-off crash and saw the top of a tree fall into the forest.

"Looks like we're in business," she said.

"I will scout ahead, and report on their numbers," Célise said. She grabbed up Matus' pike, ignoring the tall man's protests. "Wait here."

"And Viktor?" Matus looked up at the sky, shaking his head as the old woman disappeared down the mountainside.

"Viktor will eat well enough," Kasimir told him, climbing from the platform. "If he's healed, you'll run about the base of the camp and clean up those who remain." He looked to Del. "Gather stones. We'll need ammunition."

"Might be nice if you said the magic word!" Del huffed, watching him walk off to collect appropriately-sized stones. Kasimir ignored her. He actually had a smile on his face, one that wasn't sad or exasperated. _Been a while since I saw that_ , she thought to herself.

"What is the 'magic word'?" Matus asked, when she turned around. She bumped into his chest, backing up quickly.

"Uh, please," she mumbled, rubbing her nose. Matus smelled very strongly of the green goop that Célise had used to keep him unconscious.

"You do not need to tell me, if you do not wish," he added.

"No, I meant the magic word is _'please'_ ," she answered, somewhat exasperated.

"Ah," Matus replied, sounding thoughtful. "If you seek courtesy from the coward, you will be waiting quite a long time."

Del growled under her breath and walked off. "Don't I know it."

* * *

Nightfall. Jake lay back against the rock, tossing his knife into the air over and over. Lora leaned against the other side, keeping her eyes and ears open for the return of their third.

"What do ya make of this Sammon guy?"

Lora turned her head downward, picking at her fingernails. "Same as the old man, I expect."

"Nah, I don't think so." Jake tossed the knife again, catching it by the handle on the way down. "Somethin's a little different. Heart, you couldn't put nothin' across him. Still can't, 'less you make it sound _real_ good."

"What would you know about scamming the old man?" Lora snorted. She crossed her arms and shook her head. "He figured your deal out real quick, back when."

"Only what I wanted 'im ta see." Jake chuckled. "People like ta think I'm some ijit from down south, can't do a damn thin' right, mebbe. I let 'em think that."

"And what, you're supposed to be some fucking genius under it all?" Lora rolled her eyes.

"Not a genius," Jake said, rising up above her atop the rock, grabbing her by the chin and slicing into her neck deeply.

"Not a genius," he repeated, as she gasped for air and blood soaked the ground below her. "But not no fuckin' _sucker,_ either."

Hated to do that to her, but trouble was what trouble could be if she were still around when he made his getaway. Twitch would be on the way back on the double, knowing she were dead. Jake cast his eyes around, looking for the best place to hide.

Some short while later, he heard the quiet crumpling of leaves in the undergrowth, and shot Twitch right between the eyes.

It was almost too easy, he thought.

* * *

Two former Woodsmen were waiting in the shadows, following behind the trio as ordered. When the Stalkers were put down, they watched and waited for Jake Ashley to move. And when he did, one dropped back to inform Sammon of the change.

It was to be expected. Sammon accepted the information with a simple nod, pressing his fingertips together as he mused on the situation. His thoughts strayed back to the journals, the listing of the last nine who approached the volcano. The author, who he now knew to be Heart-of-Iron of the Iron March; his lover, Mara of the Shock; his compatriot, Célise Aude of the Woodsmen; and Jake Ashley of the Woodsmen, perpetual thorn in the author's side.

The others had been of Snow Children, a tribe of which he had little information about. It was an aside, at this point. The devil-woman had already confirmed their presence in the northwest was minimal. He did not anticipate their complication, unless his foray into the blue tower was stopped by them.

Sammon stared out over the nearly three hundred men he had at his command. He doubted very much that these Snow Children would impede his progress.

His brow furrowed. Jake Ashley, however, might. Much as the man appeared to be on his own side and none other, he was still firmly bound to his tribe. All other Woodsmen―barring the handful that had escaped into the trees during battle―had ceded that loyalty when faced up against the sheer domination of the Unnamed.

Sammon turned, picking up a heavy object that glowed with the same unearthly aura of the towers. He turned the artifact over in his hands, studying it. It seemed a worthy tribute, to the monsters in the towers, to bring them to the arena in which their mettle would be tested. Two others rested nearby, awaiting their insertion into the tower ring.

He placed the item back, his hand shaking slightly. Excitement, perhaps. The devil-woman would return, carrying the rest of the tribute. Her zeal for hunting was rivaled only by her desire to enter the arena herself, to prove her own mettle.

Sammon smiled, faintly. Even as primitive as she was, she was invaluable.

He stood, removing the cape his men had adorned him with upon their victory over the Runners. It was discarded to the floor of the prisoner's platform. He had no need of recognition, no want for showy garb. As he passed the cages containing the remainder of the Runners, those who had not yet yielded to his dominion, he paused. A faint muttering could be heard across the yard, catching his attention.

The leader of the Runners was genuflecting, bent awkwardly inside the tiny wooden cage as he moaned quiet prayers. Sammon listened to the desperate whispers for a few moments, before striding away.

He collected his things, leaving the command to his most trusted man before mounting one of the long-legged beasts. He would head north, to the fortress. Undoubtedly where Heart-of-Iron would be traveling, to retrieve his equipment.

If, along the way, he happened upon Ashley... well, he could not let the man free. With his history of treachery and stubbornness, it would not be advisable. Perhaps he would ask of Mara, as a continued but welcome chore, to guard him in her newly built prison. It was only fitting that the walls of the Runner territory be restored and converted, a camp dedicated to feeding his men and freeing them for battle alone.

Sammon spurred the beast forward, darting quickly along the shore to the rendezvous with the woman and onward toward Eagle Gate.


	45. More Graves Than Gardens

Note: I probably got my facts slightly wrong, but the bit at the end is based on the Nazino Affair. Sorry that my updates are far and few in-between, I've had a hell of a time keeping continuity lately.

* * *

The sun was lowering by the time Célise returned from her scouting mission, riding her dog-horse up the side of the mountain. Literally. Del had a small heart attack when the thing scaled the sheer rock face just below the camp.

Her arms weren't sore but she'd gotten several scrapes from hauling boulders to the catapult all afternoon. She'd been sitting at the edge of the rocks, watching her wounds healing like some kind of superhero bullshit and waiting for the sun to go down completely, when she heard a familiar call.

Sheba shot up from her lap like a rocket, the feathers atop her head trembling with excitement. She wound her way up Del's body, claws twitching, and the force with which the tiny thing launched herself into the rocks knocked Del backward onto the rocks.

The whistle sounded once more before it abruptly cut out. Del pushed herself up onto her palms, seeing the two other compys peering nervously over the edge. Darkness fell as suddenly as it ever had as she moved forward on hands and knees, looking down into the black under the trees.

"Alright, _alright!"_ came a call from below her. "Get off, ya ninny!"

Jake. Del relaxed. Sheba's friends gave their own excited leaps into the air, peeping and making themselves a nuisance as they climbed atop her back in an effort to see down into the dark. "You get off, too," she groaned, their claws digging uncomfortably into her. Damn heavy things for how small they were.

A few moments later, Célise joined her in silently watching the Woodsman climbing from the base of the trees up to their position. Jake zeroed in on the older woman as soon as he made footfall on the ledge, looking extremely relieved in the firelight.

"There's a face fer sore eyes," he said, happily. "Glad ta know ya got off scot free."

"Jake Ashley," Célise began, "if you were of the opinion that I would allow myself to remain in Sammon's company for longer than an hour, I am most disappointed in you."

Jake grinned from ear to ear for a brief moment before Sheba nipped at his ear, distracting him. "Yeah, yeah, I'm glad ta see ya too, ya little shit!" he snapped at her, turning to face the compy.

After giving Sheba the required attention―consisting of much petting and cooing over the tiny diva―Jake turned to Del. "Soul," he nodded. "You look good. The ole man must be here, then."

"As am I," came the deep voice of Matus, who had made his way to the ledge.

"Oh, joy," Jake groaned. "'Spose next ya'll be sayin' we got Mara hidden somewhere 'round, too."

"I doubt she would be partial," Célise murmured. Matus frowned, deeply.

Del coughed, gaining their attention. The last thing they needed was Matus figuring out that she hadn't been completely truthful with him, before she'd brokered their deal. "We need to debrief Jake and work out the plan," she said, expectantly.

Jake snickered, the grin back on his face. "Ya can de-brief me anytime," he said, suggestively.

Without a word, Matus lifted his hand and slapped the Woodsman in the back of the head. Del glared at Jake, putting her hands onto her hips. Célise turned back toward the camp and began to walk away, a tiny smile on her face.

"Sometimes I wonder if ya'll ever loved me," Jake snarled at Matus, rubbing his head.

"It is with love that I correct your odious behavior," the Sailback leader shot back. He crossed his arms and stared down at Jake. "You should not forget that I was, once, your brother."

Del blinked, dropping her arms and staring at Jake curiously. "Yeah, yeah," he said, waving Matus away. "Look, I'd love ta sit an' chat but I gotta pow-wow with Célise 'bout the palooka." He moved around them both, leaving Del to look to Matus with the same curiosity.

"It is a long story, and we have no time," the Sailback leader said, smiling at her. "I promise I shall tell you, once we recapture Eagle Gate." He walked away, following Jake.

"'Preciate that," she replied, turning back to sit at the edge of the rocks again.

* * *

Fenist had bedded itself down, the compys sitting far enough away to remain out of range but close enough to keep an eye on the beast. Kasimir sat himself under Fenist's chest and sharpened a spearhead. His mind had been awash with many, many, thoughts, and keeping his hands busy was the only way he'd been able to ignore the most difficult ones.

Célise told the others what he had imparted to her and the girl, garnering some disbelief from both Jake and Matus. The Sailback leader implied that, as the coward he was, his story could simply be an invention designed to excuse himself from responsibility. Ashley, of course, rolled his eyes and told him he was "bumpin' his gums 'bout the joint". Célise kept them in line as she always had, repeating that she would not tolerate any sort of verbal frippery.

The girl had been sitting away from the camp since her job of collecting stone was done, staring out over the eastern side of the Island. What was on her mind, he'd no idea. The normally talkative teenager was not, and Kasimir wondered why.

Other thoughts came to mind, as unbidden as ever. What would they do, should they reclaim Eagle Gate? Where should they go, next? Why bother to go anywhere, if they were locked into the Eagle Gate and safe from invasion?

Yet again, he thought about Mara. He had an idea why she would have joined with the man, her desire for war never fully slaked by raiding. Her tribe was much smaller than it had been, before, when he led them into battle. His fault, for promising them the same freedom as Sammon and never delivering it. Her anger at him, for leaving in the way he had. For abandoning her...

It was not surprising that she'd killed him so many times. It was surprising that she hadn't killed him _more._

His hand slid on the spearhead, breaking the flint in two and driving the sharpener into his armor. After a long moment of staring at the broken spearhead he placed both items aside, standing and stretching.

The girl had her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms atop them and her chin atop arms. She barely noticed him joining her, a small grunt the only hello he received. Kasimir crossed his legs underneath himself and relaxed his hands onto his own knees, watching the descent of the beacons across the eastern sky.

"Right about now is when the heroine in the story would tell some backstory of why she does what she does, prolly smoking a cigarette and being all thoughtful and shit," the girl said, in a low voice. "'Cept I ain't the heroine, and I don't smoke."

"Hmm," he agreed, for lack of anything else to say.

"I keep thinking about how this all woulda never happened if I hadn't broke up with him," she added, burying her face into her arms. "...If I hadn't been a stupid teenager. I'd never be here, I'd never have died, I'd never have to worry that I'll get my face chewed on by a raptor―" She shivered.

Kasimir's hands went to his arms, the scars from his own troubles gone with resurrection. "It is easier to forget," he said, repeating what he had told her before.

"Yeah, well, I _can't!"_ The girl's head jerked up, staring at him with tears in her eyes. "Every time I have a free moment, something else pops into my head―like how much I miss my mom and dad, or― _or―_ " She shuddered, choking back a breathy sob. "Everything here is so much more scary and harder than anything I've _ever_ known, and I―I know I can't help anyone, and I'll just end up like all those people who stopped coming down the light!"

Kasimir sighed through his nose, rubbing his eyes. Would that his own place in the world that came before was so pleasant that he'd had fond memories. "Even if we could leave this place, nothing is what it was before."

"I know," she mumbled, lowering her chin back into the crook of her elbow. "Whatever that thing is, out there, it's been doing this for a long time. All these people from different times..." The girl let out a loud sigh, hiccuping at the end. "Why?"

He shook his head. "I do not know."

The girl was silent for a long while. "What do you know?" she asked, voice husky with emotion.

He turned to her, seeing her lift her head and the firelight glinting on tear-filled eyes. They stared at each other for a time. He remembered how frustrated she had been, on the beach. When she'd grown angry at him for telling her nothing, and what little he had told her was information she would have come to know on her own.

"I said to you that I came from Berlin," he began, slowly. "That was not the truth."

The girl leaned her head onto her arms and sniffled, blinking at him tiredly. "Why lie?"

He gave a bleak smile, shrugging a shoulder. "It is not the first time I hid the truth."

She snorted, rolling her eyes at him. "That checks out," she muttered. "But where _did_ you come from?"

He took a moment to organize the memories in his head before speaking. "It was a difficult time, after... the war. Hard to make a living, hard to live. There was a fire... everything I owned, gone." He made a motion with his hand, as if something exploded. "And no one left to turn to."

"Which war?"

"Doesn't matter." Kasimir adjusted himself on the rock. "There was a cleansing. The streets were not safe for anyone who―for any person considered a burden. The unwanted. They brought us by barge to an island, where we were told to work the land." He sighed again, closing his eyes. "But it was a plan that would fail."

The girl dropped her arms and straightened her back, watching him. "Why?"

"The land was not right. The unwanted were weak." His voice grew hoarse as he spoke, the memories flooding through a carefully constructed mental dam. "There was flour to eat, but nothing more. Many died before we reached the island. They were lucky."

He remembered the water was unclean, the snow-covered ground unprepared for any sort of planting. Those who had been gathered from the cities were weaker in constitution, often the first to be killed or succumb to illness and starvation. Roaming gangs of men who, due to their nature, were far greater at abusing and murdering innocents without unease, prying teeth from the mouths of the dead to gain riches they would never spend.

"They were lucky," he repeated, grimly. "When we arrived... those who wanted, stole. Those who hungered, ate." He gave the girl a meaningful glance. She nodded in understanding, keeping quiet as she listened. "So many had died, there were more graves than gardens."

"Horrible," the girl whispered. "How..." She swallowed hard. "You?"

"It is not important. I never left that island. I will never leave this one." Kasimir shook his head and felt the same horrible sinking in his chest, when he had first realized the truth. "I was a coward. I could not fight then, and cannot now."

"You got further than anyone else ever could," she reminded him. "No one here would have known anything about the towers if you hadn't done what you did."

"And many more would be alive, if I hadn't." He moved his gaze back to the east, watching the beacons fall. Some would contain those who had died today, given yet another chance at surviving on the Island.

"They went willingly." The girl lowered her knees. "Just like right now, all those people helping Sammon take over. Most of them probably know what will happen if they die in the towers, right?"

Kasimir nodded, gloomily. That much was true, that enough inhabitants of the Island were in the know and able to inform others of the risk. "Doesn't make it right," he pointed out.

"No," she agreed. "But you can't take all the blame for shit other people are doing, now. You might've fucked up back _then―"_ The girl threw a hand up into the air. "You told Célise and everyone here the truth. That's a start on making things right."

"I don't even know what I want, anymore." He closed his eyes, feeling the weariness in his bones. "What to do, where to go next."

"You mean, after taking back Eagle Gate?"

Kasimir nodded again. "What is the point, to continue fighting? To... ascend, again? The truth will not change."

"Have you asked Célise what she wants to do? Seems like she's been waiting a long time for this moment."

He opened his eyes, turning his head to catch the campfire in his periphery. "I haven't," he admitted.

"And if she wants to fight? To go up the towers, try again?" The girl uncurled herself slightly, relaxing even further. "Would you join her?"

He gripped his own knees until his hands hurt, staring coldly out into the darkness. He did not answer her. Even if he were on the best of terms with each of the tribe leaders, even if Mara had not made it clear that she no longer trusted him... even if the girl herself were not at his side, he could not will himself to put anyone in the same danger again.

Beyond that, it was not necessary for him to pay tribute to the towers. Until he, for some reason or another, attempted to delve into the volcano once more, he had no need to collect artifacts or pry organs and teeth from the maws of beasts.

The girl noticed his silence, and he could feel her eyes digging into him. "What if _I_ wanted to try?" she asked, her voice crisp.

"Do not ask what I cannot answer," Kasimir finally replied, his voice raw and throat tight.

The girl stood, brushing her pants free of debris, and strode away.


	46. The Balance

Del walked along the path on the side of the mountain, putting distance between herself and the camp. She pulled her spear from her side and held it one-handed, sighing to herself as she stomped through bushes and over stones.

Matus was right about one thing: Kasimir would always run. Whether it was from his past actions, or the truth, or even from a fight he knew he could win. With that attitude, she couldn't understand how he'd managed to gather together all the tribes in the past.

He'd said that he'd changed over time. He'd clearly changed for the _worse_.

She stopped on the path, eyes open to her surroundings. This high up on the mountain she could see over the tops of the redwood trees and out over the southern isles, could see the glowing diamonds that came down the light. How many of those were the people who had died in the last day? How many were Unnamed? Did the Runners give in to them like other tribes had?

Del knew the Sailbacks had been attacked. Jake and the Woodsmen had been, too, at their home and at the guard post. The Runners must have been overtaken, even though they seemed so powerful. With Sammon's track record, it was only a matter of time before the Iron March had to give in and join him.

She wondered what Célise had planned. She'd welcomed them into her camp without any questions other than wanting the truth, and waited patiently for even that. It made Del feel slightly better, that someone so collected was watching over them. Without Kasimir's leadership―even _with_ it―

That wasn't fair of her, she knew. Kasimir had kept moving, made plans and followed through with them, even though he didn't know where they would end up. Or what they should do next.

But... the air of anticipation in the camp was overwhelming, and Kasimir still didn't care. "What is the point?" he'd said, miserably. Whatever depths of depression he'd sunken into, he was damn near irretrievable.

Was going up the towers and dying, never to come back, preferable to spending decades on a beach waiting for a dinosaur to eat them alive or some person to shank them for their stuff? Coming back was inevitable on the Island, but who knew how many times she would? Dying a hundred times and coming down the light, hell! Even dying _ten_ times would be enough to make her go nuts.

How many times had he died, for all his time here? How many times had Mara killed him, before Del came for him? How many more times could he―would _she_ ―come down the light before they simply stopped being remade?

Del swiped a bush with the spear, angrily. She remembered her arrival, the cold emptiness and the swirling stars that made her want to throw up. If that was what happened, every time―

She closed her eyes and waited for the boiling sensation in her stomach to go away. She'd only make herself sick, thinking about that.

Below her, under the light of the stars and milling about on the mountainside, were several dinosaurs. Del climbed onto a tall rock and sat down, watching the meat-eaters chasing down other beasts and chewing away at their flesh. Away from the fire she could see better into the dark, hear the peeping of small things in the trees and the loud cracking of bones.

She could hear the distant rumbling of large bellied-beasts, diplos and brontos calling in low tones. A panicked braying, thudding footsteps. The wind blowing through the redwoods, making whispering sounds as the needles brushed against each other.

Faint snippets of conversation from the camp reached her ears. Those, she ignored. It really didn't matter if she joined them in taking back Eagle Gate. She couldn't fight worth a damn, anyway. Like Kasimir said, what was the point?

"It is beautiful here, is it not?" a voice came, from below the rock.

Del recognized the owner without looking. "It's hell," she said, gloomily.

"There is no light without the dark," he opined. "No beauty without a measure of filth to define it. Even if we rely solely on fortune, there must still be good and bad."

"Yeah, well, I'd like to see where all the good is." Del turned herself on the rock, staring down at the man. Sammon sat atop a long-legged dinosaur, reins in his hands and head turned to her. The unnerving gaze he leveled on her had some odd effect. She stared mulishly back.

"You think this place holds nothing worthwhile?" He tilted his head slightly. "That no matter what action we take we shall fail, as your tribe mate has told me?"

"He speaks for himself," she replied, putting her feet under her knees. "Whatever I do, it doesn't matter."

Sammon's head tilted downward, thoughtfully. "Then would you ignore good fortune when it presents itself, as does he? Or have you a plan to secure your own?"

"There's no point in that." Del breathed out through her nose, loudly. "I'm as useless as an extra toe."

Sammon smiled, his teeth bright in a darkened face. "All people have purpose."

"I don't," she muttered. "What do you want?"

The smile dimmed some, and the look of dismay that came across his face was obvious. "I see," he said to himself. He paused before asking, "I hear you are called Soul-of-Iron, is this true?"

"Some people call me that, yeah," she answered. "What do you want, Sammon?"

He turned slightly, dismounting in a fluid motion. "I want to listen," he said, simply.

The "conversation" she'd had with him came to mind. When Sammon grabbed her on the brontosaurus and held the knife to her throat... what she'd said, or rather what she'd implied she'd known―and now that she did know, in some sort of way―

It wasn't her story to tell. It was Jake's, Matus', Célise's, even Crazy Bones' story, but not hers. They way Kasimir was acting, it would never be hers. She'd made a mistake when she'd hinted that it was, putting herself in the path of the Unnamed man.

"...I'm just as full of shit as he is," she confessed, looking down at her lap. "When I said I knew, I was lying."

Sammon stared up at her from the ground, his hands resting at his side. He was utterly still, not even blinking or appearing to breathe. "Disappointing," he said, finally. "But not unforeseen. It has become an expectation for those who are not yet loyal to me to speak falsely."

"No one's gonna tell you what you wanna hear." Del voice took on an acid tone. "Even if they did, you'd be better off thinking it was a lie. You can't trust anyone here."

He nodded, thoughtfully, then raised a hand to his chin and pinched it. "And if I were to prove my trustworthiness?"

"Dunno how you're gonna do that," she answered.

"Perhaps it would be easier to prove that others are, as you think, lying to you." Sammon lowered his hand and fixed his weird eyes on her.

"Wouldn't be news to me." She met the gaze, feeling the energy he pulled from her. No wonder the man had such a following, if he used that not-subtle eye-fucking on everyone. She shook her head at him, trying to break the hold. "We all know how trustworthy we aren't. No need to name names."

He nodded again. "...Then what of this? The Iron March once claimed a fortress in the north, filled with fantastic weaponry and alchemy." His weight shifted slightly, toward Eagle Gate. "I can return the fortress to you and Heart-of-Iron, for nothing more than your consideration of trust."

That―Del set the spear end into the rock face, leaning into the shaft with both hands. That would make everything so much easier―but she was suspicious. Consideration of trust? What exactly did he mean by that?

And what else would he want, if they agreed? What can of worms would be opened, or favor expected of them? Matus had weaseled a promise out her with the threat of trading her to the Unnamed, but what would Sammon do if she agreed to a seemingly perfect trade?

"It's not my decision to make," she said, hesitatingly. "And I doubt Heart-of-Iron will listen to you."

His hands came forward, palms up. "I will wait at the fortress until the sun reaches its zenith. If he is agreeable to such an arrangement, you need only come to me."

"Whatever," she said, her hands tightening on the spear. "Go to hell."

He smiled his big smile again, chuckling. "You are at the very least, consistent," he said, almost teasingly. "Farewell, Soul-of-Iron."

Del watched Sammon mount the dinosaur and turn about, propelling the creature down through the path. The rate of speed it was capable of explained how he'd managed to approach the camp without being caught by the meat-eaters below, and she turned to see them attempt futile chase.

Maybe he wanted them to trust him so he could learn about the volcano, like Kasimir thought. It could be because he wanted the "alchemy" that Eagle Gate had, like Jake and Matus wanting guns from them. She doubted he'd try to eat her like Willow Tree―and she didn't even know what Célise wanted, if anything―or what Crazy Bones wanted―

If all he wanted was knowledge, why not let him have it? Del didn't understand it.

Kasimir had kept the ending from everyone before, because he was embarrassed he'd failed, because there were too many questions to answer, because he was trying to protect people from utter disappointment.

It was weirdly noble of him, to try to keep everyone from that. She got the same feeling from Sammon, with his offer to release Eagle Gate and his calm assurance that they could get free. Everything would be okay, if only they helped him.

But Kasimir didn't want to help him. Del stared at the nearest beam of light, a pulsating rainbow ending somewhere along the river. Was it because he knew they'd never leave? It did make sense of what he'd tried to do in the past. Kasimir had felt the same idealism as Sammon. He'd lost that, all sense of hope. He didn't want the power anymore, to lead the Island to freedom. He just...

Wanted everyone to be _okay._ He'd been doing that for _her_ since she arrived on this damn Island. She just hadn't seen it, or if she had, she hadn't understood it at all.

That was why he didn't know what to do next. Because he knew the only thing he _could_ do was exist, after the volcano. Exist _alone,_ with the truth.

Del laid the spear down and curled her knees up to her face again, trying to stop the tears before they came. _What a depressing way to live out such a long, long life._ Del sniffled, rubbing her face into her knees.

A throat cleared near to her, causing her to jerk her head up and stare into clouded blue eyes. She bit down on her tongue hard, stopping her chin from trembling, and blinked rapidly.

"I..." Kasimir began, his shoulders slumped and hands loose at his sides.

"It's fine," she blurted out, wiping her face in a quick motion. "You don't gotta say anything."

He turned his head to the side and downward. "I wouldn't ask you to do anything I wouldn't do," he said, in a quiet voice. "If you want to... go to the towers, I will not stop you. Sammon... is the best chance you may have for it. The Island is no longer under any rule but his."

The sorrow in his voice made her want to burst into tears again. "I don't want to go," she replied, her own voice wavering.

Kasimir cleared his throat. "But that is not what you want," he stated, raspily. "You've made that very clear."

"I don't want to go to the towers with Sammon." Del uncurled, slowly. "Whatever―thing―put me here, it put me here with you. With the Iron March. If that means spending thousands of lifetimes hanging out on a beach killing dodos and getting sand up my ass, then that's what I'm supposed to do."

His head turned back to her, a look of confusion on his face. Del shrugged her shoulders, looking back toward the camp. "Matus told me we still have something to do, here. That it's not punishment, there's a reason why we came. Maybe mine is to stay with the Iron March."

Kasimir didn't answer for a long enough time that Del felt compelled to fill in the silence. "Maybe that's why he thinks you're a coward, too."

The long, drawn-out sigh that came next was completely expected. Del's mouth hiked up into a sad but wry smile, watching him out of the corner of her eye. "I should say I'm not surprised," he added, rubbing at his face. "But that would be another lie."

"See, you're getting better," she said, her smile feeling more genuine. "You'll get this shit fixed in no time at all."

"Would it were that simple." He sidestepped, facing the camp with her.

"If you let it, it would be," Del muttered. " 'I have one job on this lousy ship...' "

He made a questioning noise at her. She shook her head at him, prying herself from the rock and hopping to the ground. "What's the plan to take back Eagle Gate?"

"Célise and Jake will be hidden in the trees, Matus a distraction on the ground. Their strengths." Kasimir looked down at her. "We fly in from the east, sun at our backs. You will man the catapult."

Del was taken aback. "You'd trust me up on that thing!?" she sputtered, putting her hands on her hips and looking askew at him.

He shot her a funny smile. "...You'd rather be bait?"

 _"No!"_


End file.
